


Book

by sometimes_i_english



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Badly Written Smut, M/M, really badly written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another University!AU where Zayn writes a book, Louis publishes it; somehow they all live together, fall in love, have misunderstandings and I suck at summaries, yeah?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book

Soft yellow light sprawls itself almost lazily around the stance, heavy wood chairs and white clothed tables scattered around as silky music plays the background. Zayn’s sure it all is tasteful and the music almost calms him down, except it doesn’t.

The place looks expensive and has the ambiance of those posh restaurants where conversations go in whispers because loud voices are vulgar and wouldn’t match. He can feel the grumble and murmur of other customers around him as he reaches for his water glass for what feels like the millionth time in the fifteen minutes he’s been sitting there; he knows he’s early, but really, his room had offered less comfort with its suffocating four walls and Liam’s overbearing presence as he eyed Zayn pace the five steps it took from one wall to the other while wringing his hands and muttering nothings to the air in almost a heart attack.

Liam had tried to calm him; he had and bless his soul because Zayn knew how moody and awful he had been on the days since he’d gotten that call.

Seven days, exactly a week prior to his current predicament his cell phone had buzzed.

It was mid afternoon and, as usual, Liam, Niall and he were sat under the shadow of a thick tree in the middle of the great green area of the campus; it almost made him melancholic about the time he didn’t spend at Hogwarts next to the black lake just laughing with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Liam was dozing off on the grass and Niall ate something he couldn’t really remember with his earphones blasting into his eardrums; a soft breeze caressed their skin and for a moment Zayn almost felt in the middle of a Roxette song (except it wasn’t june and there were no kids playing around)

“Hey” came a thick drawl and Zayn knew it was Harry before looking up from the book opened on his hands.

“Hi Harry” he said back, and it was obvious the other two wouldn’t answer any time soon.

“What you got there?” Harry asked as he dropped his weight on top of Liam’s sleeping form, managing to wake him up (and making him throw Harry away with the ease of someone who bench presses Zayn’s weigh at least three times a week) 

The four of them erupting in laughter and, really, maybe there were kids playing around and not university students in their early twenties.

And there it happened, in the middle of Zayn staring at Liam’s crinkly smile and both Niall and Harry jumping on Liam again (and them three rolling on the grass) there his phone buzzed and it was weird because he didn’t have many friends and the ones he had were with him.

Unknown number flashed in his screen and Zayn had half a mind to not answer it, but he did.

“Hello?” he said as he stood and walked away from the questioning looks and grinning faces.

“Mr. Zayn Malik?” said a cool female voice

“Um...yes” and it was weird and maybe he was a bit scared, because all that flashed through his mind was his family all the way in Bradford and him all the way in London and someone being hurt and hospitals and white beds and death and shit “Who am I speaking with?” he asked as politely as his mind allowed his too thick and too narrow throat to work.

“This is Lauren from Elephant editorials” she said “please hold on as I transfer you”

Soft classical music started playing along before his brain translated whatever she had said and another, this time male voice, started talking before his self could remember to move and answer.

“Hello Mr. Malik” greeted the new voice, a slight tone of amusement under his clear voice “I’m Louis Tomlinson and I call in regards the manuscript you submitted to us” there was something pleasant about his voice, but then again, there was also something that put Zayn on edge and the hairs on the back of his neck stand in a perfect imitation of fear.

“Uh manuscript?” because apparently his brain was still on short circuit and that was all he could say

The man-Louis-chuckled before adding “Yes, those lovely 400 pages you sent a couple months ago”

And he had known as soon as the man-Louis, for fuck’s sake-had mentioned anything about a manuscript. Writing had been a hobby (and a dream) of him since he had memory, he loved books, from novels to comics, from Rowling to Shakespeare and Rimbaud, going through Dante and Poe and a million other authors he had already forgotten (or were too many to remember) so he’d entertained the idea of writing a book.

Words and plots poured themselves from his brain into his fingertips, word documents and block pages had been written and unwritten so many times until finally, he’d come up with something he thought he could be proud of; or at least something that could be his without him being too embarrassed of it.

Nobody had read it.

“This is amazing” Liam had said, with his big brown eyes and gentle smile (and Zayn could have melted there)

“What? Where did you-“

And Liam’s eyes had gone wide with an apology pouring from his lips as he explained he’d just seen it on the desk and didn’t think it was private, but of course it was, but as soon as he had started it was just impossible to stop.

Zayn could kiss Liam’s apologies away, Zayn wanted to kiss Liam’s apologies away; but he couldn’t, he wasn’t allowed.

No, no, no; those feelings weren’t allowed to get out; so he settled for a smile and a hug and the promise of sending it to some sort of publishing house.

He didn’t fulfil that promise until a month later.

A month of nerves and smoking a pack a day as he got copies and built the courage of actually putting anything in the post.

But that had been at least three months away and Zayn had already lost hope of hearing back (spending a week or two moping and the rest plotting either his own death or his next book)

“Mr. Malik?” Louis’ voice brought him back to reality

“Yes, yes” he answered hastily

“Yes” and there was a smile on the other man’s voice “I’d like to schedule a meeting of sorts with you so we can discuss the editing process of your book, and, if things go as planned, the future publishing of it” excitement seeped through the phone as Louis finished, infecting Zayn with a surprised smile and the complete inability to formulate a coherent sentence.

After a couple of minutes of spluttering (which Louis either ignored or forgave) Zayn found his tongue “yes, yes, thank you; when? Where? How?” he said hastily.

Louis chuckled again “I’ll text you the place and date, until then Mr. Malik” and with that the conversation ended, an uninterrupted pi left for his ears.

But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t for the life of him move from wherever he had stopped, so he just stood there with his phone pressed to his ear until his arm felt numb and the conversation sunk and his knees gave up and his body collapsed and his cheeks wet over.

The tears just wouldn’t stop; and he could only imagine how he looked then, sagged onto his knees in the middle of the campus’ biggest green area, crying like a kid with a mad smile on his face. But quite frankly, he couldn’t care less then how manic he looked.

Strong arms pulled him up and warm hands soothed his back as his tears fell on plaid.

“Hello Mr. Malik!” the chair across him scrapes the floor and a man that can’t possibly be much older than him sits, all pleasant smile and mischievous eyes.

Zayn takes him in; dirty blonde hair craftily styled, tanned skin, a bit shorter than he himself is and the air of someone who knows how to inspire fear and awe and trust at the same time.

A mixture of being scared and relieved at the same time invades him; somehow he feels this man is honest.

“Well, you’re a lot younger than I expected” Louis says, his initial smile softening into a more serene one, but never leaving “How old are you exactly?”

“22” and it’s a bit clipped and a bit wavering, and it’s all his damn nerves fault “Sorry” he says scratching the back of his neck sheepishly “bit nervous”

Louis laughs openly and the air seems to turn at that into something more comfortable, as if being loud is now approved in such a place. 

“Wanna go somewhere else?” he asks, blue eyes sparkling alight and if Zayn wasn’t already so gone for Liam; he’d appreciate those eyes on him.

“Um, sure” he smiles

They end up in some random McDonald’s eating with their hands and Louis loud laugh.

(And Zayn was right because Louis is barely 25)

“Now Zayn” he finally says “I know we’re just a small company, but we would very much like to be in charge of your book” all friendly tone gone from his voice and his hands folded on the table in a business-like manner.

Zayn does nothing but gape at him because only being considered fit enough to be published is way more than he ever imagined possible; and when he tells Mr. Tomlinson-Louis please, my hair is not white yet-the other merely laughs and tells him how his books is indeed quite simple, but it can be worked upon because his writing style is clever and beautiful while the plot it catching and interesting and complicated enough to “make you want to finish the book but not give you a headache”

So they set dates and times and appointments and deadlines. And it’s dizzying and scary, and Zayn spends half the time planning escape routes or conversations that may lead to getting out of it; but it’s what he wants, what he’s dreamt of for so long and he needs to do it, so he overpowers his fear and stays.

They finish up and part ways, Louis offers him a ride but Zayn declines, walking in the cool air of a London night seems clichéd and quite necessary to think and process everything.

Walking proves to be not too enlightening, the whole trip appears in a daze; as if the streets and buildings he knows, and the people he doesn’t, aren’t even there; or maybe he’s the one not there.

Soon enough he’s opening his room’s door and finds himself surrounded by three different voices shouting questions he can’t comprehend and, and, are they even speaking in English?

In the middle of it all he only sees Liam’s crinkly smile and lets the boys lead him inside and sit him on the edge of his bed; he grins at them.

“So” Harry goes first

“How was it?” Niall jumps to sit on the small lovesit across his bed and the three of them look at him with expectant expressions.

The air crackles with anticipation.

“I met with him” Zayn finally relents, a soft smile playing his features “his name is Louis Tomlinson and he’s the owner of the company, he’s twenty five years old; no Harry, I didn’t ask how he’s got his own publishing house at that age” he waves as he sees Harry open his mouth and then close it with a pout that shouldn’t suit his big body quite like that “he’ll be in charge of my book”

Silence stretches for seconds that could last miles.

It’s Niall’s fault really, he’s the one that starts laughing and launches his small body on top of Zayn, just to be followed by Harry and finally Liam. The four of them end up panting on the floor with identical face-splitting grins.

“You know what this means then?” Niall asks

“What?” Zayn asks without bothering to ease his already aching cheeks, Harry smirks and Liam just looks plainly confused.

“Ce-le-bra-ti-ON!!!” Harry and Niall say together, their voices raising towards the end as they both jump from the floor into a standing position.

“Today’s Monday” Liam chastises half-heatedly

Looks of incredulity are sent his way until he’s in a fit of giggles; and Zayn couldn’t feel more content if he wanted, and he thinks that even if the book doesn’t become a reality, he has that single moment in which hope was high and his friends were there.

It was empowering and Zayn was already a bit drunk from so much. They still had a celebratory toast and then a celebratory shot game and then another, needless to state they were smashed by midnight.

Zayn didn’t completely mind the hangover he nursed through his classes that Thursday.

Come Friday night he had new assignments to start but he pushed them all back in favour of the envelop that had been sitting on his desk since that Monday night.

He opened it with a slight tremor on his fingers, almost scared of knowing what was inside. And with reason; when he pulled out the document, his 400 pages had turned into at least 800 filled with post its and other miscellaneous papers that carried notes in a surprisingly inelegant slant.

There was a lot to read.

And he’ll never really admit it, but his confidence and self-esteem were a bit battered by the amount of changes and adjustments he sensed from the notes.

Surely he hadn’t thought himself the next great genius of British literature, but deep down he sort of expected to be good, or at least good enough.

“They wouldn’t have called you if they didn’t think you were good”

Zayn nearly jumps from his chair, startled as he turns to see Liam leaning against the doorframe, and damn it, looking good doing that should be a privilege reserved for movie stars or such.

When had he arrived?

And that, that is completely irrelevant because Liam is looking at Zayn with his brows furrowed and a line between them and those eyes completely serious. Zayn could kiss him, given his week maybe he’d get away with it...he’d just have to get up, give one step and he’d be almost crowding Liam, one more step and...

“Liam, are we going?”

Danielle

“Yes, Dani just give a second. Yeah?” he answers turning his head a little towards outside, his eyes never leaving Zayn.

“You ok?” he asks, with that line between his brows and the seriousness in his eyes.

Zayn only gives himself time for a jerky nod and a rushed “Yeah, fine” before he’s shooing Liam outside and closing the door between them.

It was stupid.

It was so, so stupid, and it was also hopeless...but it was also helpless.

It had been helpless since he had known about it.

Zany had arrived in London a month before his classes began so he could get accustomed with the city, his new flat and (if possible) start reading into his study material.

His housing arrangements were simple and not different from any other Uni student; he’d be living in a flat only thirty minutes away from school by tube, there would be other three lads about his same age living there so they could split the rent (and actually afford it with their student budgets)

Although, to be fair the rent was fairly cheap, the flat they’d be occupying was owned by an older man who (apparently) had many flats like that one just to rent them to students around the area.

There was noise coming from the small kitchen when he entered his new home; which was on the fourth floor of a building without lifts, thank you very much; a deep voice sang along to some weird indie music and, upon closer inspection, a mop of deep brown curly hair on top of what would easily be the tallest bloke Zayn had met.

“Um-hello?” Zayn asked tentatively.

“Shit” the boy dropped his wooden spoon startled, before turning with wide eyes and a frown

“Oh, shit, sorry mate, I just, I’m just-“

“You’re Zayn?” the boy said offering a friendly smile that reached his bright green eyes.

“Uh, yeah, how do you-?”

“Paul told me you were arriving today, just didn’t mention what time exactly” and ok, apparently the boy-whose name Zayn still didn’t know- had a thing for interrupting people or not letting them finish. In other circumstances, or had it been someone else, Zayn would’ve been annoyed, but something about this curly haired person seemed so innocent and friendly and welcoming, that it could be nothing but endearing.

“Oh, Paul is?”

“The building manager” the boy smiled “if anything here fails, which will happen, we go to him”

And really, the nameless boy was already pleasing and had Zayn smiling a little. “And your name would be?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, haha” the boy laughed “I’m Harry Styles”

“Ok, nice to meet you Harry Styles” Zayn offered his hand, which Harry took with a hearty laugh (“Just Harry, please”)

Harry offered something to eat, but Zayn declined since his stomach was feeling slightly uncomfortable from the long trip; they sat on the small living room area and talked about their majors (Harry was in music and Zayn was in English literature with a minor in art) their hometowns (Harry was from Cheshire and Zayn from Bradford) and more meaningless things as Harry ate.

“So” Harry said in the slow drawl that his voice was “want to pick your room?” he asked excitedly

“I get to pick?” Zayn’s eyebrows rose on his forehead in surprise

“Yeah, where do you think I’ve been sleeping?”

“Um” and yeah, maybe Zayn’s idea of waiting for everyone so they could talk about it wasn’t exactly realistic

“Don’t worry about it” Harry smiled as he pulled the black haired boy towards the corridor where the rooms were.

There were five identical doors, a small chalkboard on the farthest one announcing it was “Harry’s”.

“All the rooms are the same” he explained “Except this one, which is the bathroom” he added pointing at the one, and how clichéd of it, that was at the far end on the right.

The space wasn’t bad, it wasn’t too big but it wasn’t too small; it was...enough, enough for four Uni lads living on tight budgets and that will probably be missing each other as their classes and work schedules begin to collide and pile up.

And hey, at least he got a room for himself. God knew he wasn’t about to share his space with some stranger whose existence he’d never even fathomed.

If he had to choose a word to describe his bedroom then it would be, generic, maybe, or simple or bare or...no, he needed to stop because that would be his room for the next four years and it was imperative for them to get along.

The size, like the flat, wasn’t bad; there was a single bed on the right with a small bedside table next to it, a desk facing the left wall, an empty bookshelf (of which he’d take care of later) and it was all tied up with a decent sized window on the opposite wall to the door.

The empty spaces on the deep green walls would be filled as days went.

A week later the bookshelf was already full, there were random drawings strewn across his desk and his closet hid his clothes. It was rather late in the afternoon when he heard noise and someone moving on the room next to his, which was supposed to be empty.

So he set the charcoal down, stood up and opened his door to walk over, except he didn’t because as soon as he stepped out his face hit a solid something-or someone-sending his light self toppling backwards and almost falling (the someone’s hand grabbing his arm to stop him from)

“Oh God, sorry-are you ok?” the guy stammered with his words as he steadied Zayn and Harry appeared from somewhere around the around-ness of the small hallway.

“You must be Liam!” Harry beamed

And Liam, much like Zayn had, seemed to be some sort of confused at the random kid knowing his name “Uh, yeah?”

“Hiya! Mate! I’m Harry, welcome to the flat” Harry beamed even more as he shook the new boy-Liam?-hand.

“Thanks” the boy-Liam-apparently had it easier to get accustomed to Harry’s over happiness and personality.

“This one here is Zayn” Harry waved a hand in the general direction where Zayn stood just looking the exchange

“Oh, nice to meet you” Liam smiled and his (stupidly big) brown eyes got crinkly around the corners and Zayn thought he might just move because he really couldn’t deal with another happy person in his life (he stayed though) “sorry about that” he added later with the expression of a kicked puppy, and fuck him because that was so not fair to Zayn or anyone really.

“Nah, don’t worry about it” Zayn said with a small smile of his own “I was actually going to your room, mine’s the one next to it” he motioned with his thumb to the door behind him, wincing a little as he took in the mess he had made in just one week.

“So we’re neighbours!”

“Yup”

“Niall’s coming up in about an hour” Harry chipped in

Both snapped their attention to the curly haired boy with equal looks of confusion on their faces.

“Niall’s the other lad, Paul told me when I asked about Liam” Harry said with a look of exasperation and a roll of his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, ok” Liam answered while Zayn only nodded sharply “I should probably just go back and finish unpacking”

“OK!” Harry said loudly “And then we’ll be having welcome pizza and getting drunk!” he finished punctuating it all with a yes fist and a winning grin.

Niall did arrive later and they did have their pizza, but Niall was Irish and trying to get him drunk was a bloody stupid (and useless) idea, so by the end of the night three out of four of them were drunk and come morning they were already friends.

Time went by. Somehow, somewhere between their freshman year and sharing a flat, Zayn and Liam became best friends; the fact that they shared common interests such as comics while complementing each other in areas like Liam’s English and Zayn’s moodiness helping a lot; but mainly it was just that they fitted together and, common hobbies or not, they would’ve still became friends and shared secrets and plans and fears and desires.

That’s how Zayn found himself at the beginning of their sophomore year with an odd set of rhapsodies and odes to Liam’s hands and Liam’s eyes and Liam’s smile. Noticing the broad set of his shoulders and the hardness of his chest against the softness of his face, itching to touch and run his hand through his dark blonde curls.

It had been earth-shattering, not because Liam was a guy (because Zayn had known from while back how hetero-open he really was) but because it was Liam. Liam, who was his flatmate; Liam, who was his best mate; Liam, who was an economics’ student (strictly unrelated to the liberal arts shit he had going) Liam, who volunteered as a fireman during the weekends; Liam, who was a fucking saint putting to shame every other human being walking the face of the earth.

Because it was Liam.

And, ok, Liam was an amazing person and it was no surprise to fall for him, but it was Liam and that only served to give Zayn palpitations and cave inside his room for a week surviving on nothing but cigarettes and tea.

That was until Harry got fed up, looked for Paul and forcibly made his way into his room.

They talked about it. Or more like Zayn was coerced into talking about it.

(Harry already knew)

(Apparently Niall too)

Zayn wanted to die, or for a hole to appear out of nowhere and swallow him up.

“Do you think he knows?” he’d asked Harry desperately

“Nah” Harry had smiled gently rubbing soothing circles to his back “Liam’s as daft and oblivious to his own charm as can be”

Something churned in Zayn’s stomach in a mix of relief and disappointment, and it must have shown on his face because next thing he knew, Harry was looking at him with a hint of pity on his green eyes.

And Zayn couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t have that.

The next day he cleaned his room, took a long shower and made a proper plan for that year.

A month later Danielle appeared.

And she made Liam happy, he really seemed happy; so Zayn ignored the sad glances his other two flatmates sent his way and behaved like a good best friend who wanted to meet and know the girl.

Half of that week he hooked up with anything wearing a skirt, the other half with anyone whose genitalia needed to be held in order to pee. It didn’t stop until one night when Liam didn’t knock on his unlocked door and only opened it to find a random shirtless guy on his knees with Zayn’s cock down his throat.

So, in Zayn’s mind, nobody could really blame him for choosing to close the door between him and Liam, who was going out with her, and then sliding to the ground like a pathetic cliché in some romantic comedy; because it was real life and not some sort of Japanese graphic novel where straight roommates fall in love with their male best friend.

Zayn had tried, he had fucking tried to stop it. He’d tried repressing them, he’d tried staying away from Liam (which only resulted in Liam looking at him like a kicked puppy again and asking if he’d done anything wrong, making Zayn guilty and forego the plan) then he’d tried dating this one chick from photography, Perrie something, then dating this other guy from sculpture, Josh or Blake or Nate; all of those plans failed.

And Zayn’s feelings didn’t go away.

Zayn’s feelings hadn’t gone away.

Three years later, at the beginning of their junior year, nobody could blame him because it wasn’t his fault. It hadn’t been his fault, it hadn’t been a conscious decision to fall so bloody hard for his best mate.

“How clichéd” he mutters to the air “we don’t choose who to fall in love with, huh?”

Mirthless laugh erupts from his chest as he gets up to actually start working. Working on his book was good, yes it was; it kept his mind busy while doing something he enjoyed and wanted.

He doesn’t sleep that night going through the notes Louis had written, thinking and pondering on the way they would change or improve either the story’s development or just its style (because apparently big words were something people are scared of)

Four hundred pages, an unhealthy amount of caffeine paired with lack of proper food and five days of no sleep later Zayn calls Louis.

There are four rings before a very disgruntled Louis picks up.

“It’s five in the morning” and if it wasn’t for the quietness of everywhere, there would’ve been no way for Zayn to tell the words apart from a grunt “you better be dying or I’ll kill you myself”

“It’s five in the morning?” Zayn asks in a sad attempt at an apology.

“How many days?” Louis says a bit more fondly and awake, and of course he knows, how else could it be? He’d known authors and writers and was used to their manners and (sometimes stupid) antics.

“I really couldn’t know” Zayn admitts “What day is today?”

Louis huffs a fond sort of laugh on the other side “You’re adorable Zayn, today is a Wednesday as a matter of fact”

“Oh, then five” he answers sheepishly and maybe a bit proud because staying up five days in a row feels so writer-like for him.

“Zayn!” Louis berates “Have you at least been eating and attending classes and taking your daily shit?”

And Zayn can already see himself liking Louis (if only for the too personal question about body functions as a try to lighten things up)

“Um, I finished with your recommendations?” he offers “and I was wondering if we could meet, there are some I’m not too sure about and would like to talk about”

“Oooo already getting possessive over the book, are we?” Louis says but Zayn can hear the smile in his voice “Sure Zaynie! Just e-mail me your schedule and I’ll text you a date maybe for later this week, that alright with you?”

Zaynie?

“Uh, yeah” he says as he types the e-mail and sends it.

“Alright my beautiful friend, see you soon then” and like last time, there’s no goodbye at the end, only the long beep of the discontinued call.

After his first proper shower of the week and acknowledging his grumbling stomach, Zayn had made his way to the kitchen and was sat at their dining table nibbling on a sandwich.

“Jesus Zayn, you scared the shit out of me”

Zayn looks up to find Liam standing on the doorway, hair plastered to his forehead and sweat making his clothes cling to his body.

“Sorry” he says with a small cough between swallowing and choking because his throat suddenly decided not to work.

“You ok?” the other boy asks with that furrowed brow that shouldn’t look so cute on someone over his twenties “Haven’t seen you since Friday”

“Mmm yeah, just working on the book” he smiles, he couldn’t help it, it just tugged at his lips and stretched them without his consent. And it’s honest and it’s happy because it was his book, and it might not even be published, but he was working on his fucking book...and it felt...weird, good weird; like a slight buzz on his fingertips that itched to keep on writing or drawing or painting with the mere need of moving.

Crinkly eyes stare back at him and for once Zayn doesn’t think of erasing that smile with a kiss or having those arms around his waist; he just felt content to have that smile directed at him.

A pair of lips connects with his cheek and it takes him two blinks to understand that Liam had crossed the room, bent down and kissed him on the cheek. By the time his brain had processed those actions, Liam was already under the shower and his sandwich was all over the table.

Zayn knows his eyes are probably wide and his mouth is opened in a comical representation of an “o” and that’s all he knows for the time-space of at least two minutes (which is a lot when you’re sitting alone) when Niall appears by the hallway, shirtless and in his sweatpants, bed hair and bleary eyes; the face of someone who’d slept peacefully and was just waking up.

“Zayn?” he says “Didn’t know you still lived with us” his face is a lot more awake then and a teasing smirk spreads across it.

“Oh I don’t” Zayn answers in mock surprise “Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m just visiting and eating your food” he says motioning for the remains of his sandwich.

“You clearly have no idea what eating is” Niall deadpans as he eyes the ingredients, that had previously been a sandwich, all spread over the table.

“Had an accident” Zayn shrugs.

He gets up and looks for something to clean and Niall busies himself with rummaging through their fridge in looks of something edible, preferably full of carbs or something that can be deep-fried.

“Still don’t understand how you eat the way you do and stay so fit”

“Mmm?” of course, he’s already munching on something as his hands grab a pan and some sort of kitchen tool to make fried eggs “You think I’m fit Zayn?” he says waggling his eyebrows in what’s supposed to be an innuendo but fails miserably into a joke.

“I mean” because Zayn likes to prank them and he’s decided to play along whatever Niall’s tried to embarrass him with “I wouldn’t mind taking those sweats off and wiping more than drool form chin” he breathes in the Irish lad’s ear bringing a hand to rub gently the pale expanse of chest, pinching a nipple when his fingers find one; Niall breaths a bit more heavily and air finally leaves him as his earlobe gets trapped between Zayn’s teeth.

“Ahem”

They both startle, and Niall will deny it but he actually whimpered at the loss of contact, turning around to find amused green eyes on the interesting image they must’ve presented.

“You knoooow” Harry drawls as he steps closer, effectively trapping them both with his long limbs and slightly muscled body “I have nothing against friends with benefits” he places a hand on Zayn’s waist “and I have even less against threesomes” he adds cupping Niall’s chin with his other hand.

And the situation he’s in; his body pinned between Harry’s and Niall’s chests, Harry’s hand on his waist while his own hands rest on Niall’s chest and Harry’s face moving closer and closer to Niall’s lips; was definitely not what Zayn had had in mind when he decided to move to London to go to Uni. It was more like one of those fabricated porn scenes that repeat each other with cheesy lines and overly oiled bodies; except it was real, and it was happening and the air inside their kitchen was stuffy and hard to breathe.

(And somewhere along the lines, Zayn’s penis wasn’t really complaining)

Harry’s lips are almost on Niall’s, and even Zayn’s eyes threaten to fall shut at the tension held in the less than two inches separating the two boys.

Just a little bit more.

He can feel Niall’s sweat pooling around his hands, and his own neck damp with sweat drops that roll down his back to stick to his clothes. Harry is pocking his lower back, rutting distractedly against the start of his arse creak. His hips buck forward rubbing against Niall’s bulge, and there are just too many things around him, from Harry’s hand rubbing his arse to Niall’s own under his shirt to the expanses of skin under his palms.

Shivers run along drops of sweat on his spine.

“What exactly are you doing?”

It’s startling and the three of them jump out of each other’s grasp. But it’s also weird and a little scary, because Liam is there, but his voice doesn’t sound like Liam, no, there’s a low and threatening quality to it that makes the hairs at the back of Zayn’s neck stand a little.

“What’s it to you what we’re doing?” Harry asks defiantly, and things are definitely weird then, from both Harry’s and Liam’s tones to how Harry moves to sort of cover Zayn from Liam’s line of sight with his body.

Zayn moves around with a confused expression on his face, but when he looks up, he feels the chill of the air seep into his body; Liam’s eyes aren’t the gentle light brown he’d gotten to love, but instead were sharp and cold, tinted with the paradox of a flame.

“Liam?” he mutters

Liam snaps out of his glaring but doesn’t look at him; he merely grabs for his denim jacket and heads out, slamming the door on his way.

Time froze as they do nothing but stare at the place where Liam had stood. Breathing is an almost impossible challenge with the chill Liam left and Harry’s tense shoulders.

“Er...” Niall begins

“Not now Niall” Harry snaps angrily

And Zayn is just really, really confused; it’s not like the four of them aren’t overly touchy feely and completely oblivious to personal space with each other, and there’s really no reason for Liam to have reacted so badly unless he was actually that fond of their crappy fridge; although when he thinks about it they do put food there and thinking about someone’s naked form and sweat on it is a little disgusting.

Someone’s knocking on the door and maybe it’s Liam, but somehow that thought isn’t hopeful or happy, more like it fills Zayn with dread and Harry only seems to get angrier as he stomps his way to the front door.

“Did you forget something?” he hisses as soon as he janks it open.

“Well, hello there handsome” a voice Zayn knows says “maybe you of you let me” and Zayn can already imagine Louis winking and Harry’s confused expression, it lifts his spirit a little after whatever had happened.

“What?” Harry stammers

“How you doing?” and really, Zayn can only laugh at Louis’ terrible American accent as he stands in the middle of the kitchen listening to their interchange and picturing Harry’s face going from anger to confusion to even more confusion.

“I’m sorry what?” and Harry seems to be regaining his anger

“Joey?” he hears Louis say “Friends? The Tv serie?”

“Um, I’m sorry mate but there’s no Joey here”

And now both Niall and him throw a bark of laughter as they collapse on the floor, clutching their stomachs from how hard their laughter is.

“What?” Harry yells inside “There are Joeys here” Zayn casts a look at him and it only serves to extend his laughing fit, Harry’s eyes are narrowed and his face is sent into such an earnest and honest expression, he could as well be a five-year-old explaining why the blue crayon is the best crayon.

Fitting to Louis’ style of doing things, he invites himself inside, a grin splitting his face as he winks at the curly haired boy with the confused look in his way over to Zayn.

“Zaynie!” he exclaims excitedly “You showing me your work or what?”

“What?” Zayn asks wiping tears from his cheeks

“I sent you a text” Louis explains and the business face is back on, completed with the posture of someone who isn’t playing around and knows what he needs done and when he wants it done.

“Oh, sorry, left my phone in my room. Um just wait here and I’ll go grab the book, yeah?”

Before getting any answer Zayn makes his way back, only then realizing what a back host he is at not introducing his editor to his flatmates-friends. Whatever, they’ll have time for introductions later.

Or while he’s rummaging in his room as it seems. When he gets back Niall and Louis are full on a conversation about football teams and valuable players while Harry’s perched as far away from Louis as he can, bearing the same confused expression he’d had when he answered the door.

Zayn understands the poor lad, if it hadn’t for life throwing them together in the professional way it had, he’s sure they would have never became as much as acquaintances; not with Zayn’s brooding and quiet manners, and Louis overwhelming presence and too bubbly personality.

They were all walls.

And they aren’t down yet; but maybe Zayn and Louis are actually the same and will, in time, become more than the convenient friends weeks of business’ conversations had made.

“Um, here it is” he says as he sits on the couch and hands it over to the blue-eyed man.

“Alright, let’s get to work then. Nice meeting you Niall” Louis smiles pleasantly “And you, Curly, I’m looking forward to getting to know you”

The look on Harry’s face is worth any of his limbs and his overly-priced hair products.

“You like him?” Zayn asks when they’re sat at the small dinner (previously cleaned from any sandwich remains by Zayn)

“Mmmm, he seems interesting” Louis musses, he’s already sprawled pages over pages and is beginning to scan them over with his eyes

“He’s a lot more to handle than what you’ve seen”

Louis looks up at that, both eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“He’s just in a bad mood today” Zayn chuckles “You’ll struggle with him when he goes back to his usual self”

“Is that right?” but there’s a smile on Louis’ face and the light of a challenge has lit up his eyes “Well, like I said, I’m looking forward to it”

After that they get to work on the book, submerging in it and the questions Zayn has about every note Louis had left, even the ones he had already applied. They’re half way done when Louis’ phone goes off and he pulls an uncomfortable grimace before stepping out and answering it.

It’s already past five in the afternoon and with all the brain process he’d been undergoing with his book, the thing with Liam had been pushed to the back of his head.

Now that he’s alone though, it comes back, not full force yet, but it comes back; and it bothers him, it bothers him infinitely because for some reason he’d thought they were closer with each other than with the other two, sometimes to the point where they could read the other’s mind.

Liam’s behaviour had been odd. Even with the circumstances in which it happened.

“Zayn?” Louis’ back inside

“Mmm?” he asks distractedly

“You alright?”

“Yeah, Liam was just odd this morning” he shrugs with as much nonchalance he can fake

“Oh” and no, no, no, no, that oh sounds too knowing for someone he’d been talking with for no longer than weeks, maybe a couple of months. “Is Liam, the Leon with ‘brown gentle eyes and big hands that would be able to hold you even through a storm’?”

“Fuck”

His face, burning with embarrassment, is now hid in the palms of his hands. Arms circle his shoulders in a soft hug that’s more comfort he’d dare to admit.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it” Louis whispers

“Fuck” Zayn breathes out “Fuck Louis! He read it, he fucking read that goddamn book!” and he’s on his feet, motioning wildly with his arms and his eyelids are open so big his eyes might as well pop out.

“What if he knows?” he whispers, fear palpable in his voice, and it’s so clear then; Liam’s behaviour is so obvious, he was disgusted with him.

“Shh, Zayn, Zayn! Calm down!”

His eyes focus on Louis’ blues for a moment, there’s a storm in them, but it’s unknown and has nothing to do with Zayn (and Zayn wants to know, wants to help, but he can’t because maybe it’s not his call and maybe they’re not that friendly yet)

“Listen to me! I picked up on it because I’m an editor, yeah? I work with writers for a living, yeah?” Zayn only gets to nod “And if this Liam bloke is anything like your Leon, then he’s quite daft and oblivious to people around him; don’t worry about it” he’s so earnest about it that Zayn has to feel better if only for Louis’ effort not to be wasted “besides, you’re so good looking you probably have every person on campus swooning over you”

It’s a joke, he tells himself, his head knows it and he forces himself to push the bitterness that comes with it down “Everyone but the one I want” it slips.

“Aww Zaynie” the hug tightens and there’s a buzz again “Ugh! Motherfucker! Sorry Zayn, but I really need to go; let me go over what we’ve done today and I’ll e-mail you or text you for us to meet again”

“Uh, yeah, sure” Zayn says “Go ahead, thanks for coming” but Louis’ outside the door, closing it and the thump of his shoes can be heard as he runs down the stairs.

Like that he’s left alone, both Harry and Niall are either in class or their jobs and Liam, well who knows where Liam had been all day; and it’s not as if it was odd for him not to be at the flat at that time, he had classes and assignments and other friends after all.

It’s stressful though. 

Being left alone with his thoughts.

It’s stressful and he could pull his hair or bite his nails, instead he picks up the mess of pens and unused paper before heading for his room and cracking the window open.

Smoking’s bad for him, he knows it, and he inwardly apologizes to every person who’s led a healthy life and fallen sick nevertheless, while he gets to be up and about with his cancer habit. But he also can’t help it; he needs it, not the nicotine, but the feeling of something between his lips and his fingers, the clouds of smoke that rise above and numb his senses for a while; he craves it and it calms him.

He doesn’t want to think about Liam, but he’s an artist, and artist feed from their feelings. So he paints, in browns and tans and reds and deep blues; an abstract of whatever Liam represents and whatever Liam was that morning, he’s tired and the sun is starting to rise again and twenty-four hours had passed without him realizing.

There are classes to attend and people he hasn’t seen for days, but he’s too tired; besides, he’s already missed six days of school, one more day couldn’t make that much of a difference.

(Zayn only sleeps the morning and attends his afternoon classes because he’s paying for them with at least three of his limbs and he’s not about to waste them)

A week flies by in classes, assignments, catching up with both the previous and friends; and like nothing, he’s staring into a brand new Wednesday without knowledge of where his weekend went. He hasn’t heard back from Louis or seen Liam, but at least Harry seems to be less angry and just a bit more depressed (so instead of banging things he’s camping in his room listening to some sort of dark/indie band no one but him and the band members has heard of before)

“Harry” he tries, Niall’s standing beside him munching on something while holding a bottle of cheap vodka and a six-pack.

Alcohol is not the best answer, yes, he knows it; they’re not alcoholics. But alcohol might be what they need, just like that first night when their inhibitions fell and their friendship began.

“Go away” Harry’s usual drawl is deeper and nasal, he’s been crying, Zayn thinks.

“We’re not leaving you behind, Styles!” Niall yells

“Fuck you” Harry tries, but they can hear shuffling inside the room as Harry drags his feet and unlocks the door for them to open.

If the state of that room is any indication of the way Zayn himself looked that time he acknowledge his feelings for Liam, then he owes Harry massively.

There’re dirty plates pilling everywhere and the smell of food going bad mixed with laundry and a haven’t-bathed-in-a-week-boy stings their eyes. It’s disastrous.

“No, I’m not going in there” Niall says, and thank God for Niall because Zayn wouldn’t have been able to voice it, not with gratitude and self preservation fighting inside him.

“You know what Harry?” he says in his most casual tones “we should get some ink” a smirk spreads across his face and Harry’s eyes seem to light up at the idea.

“Yeah” he agrees slowly “I’d like that”

Niall groans a little, but only out of habit because, according to him, their ‘tattoo addiction seems to be getting out of hand’

Between the both of them they manage to put Harry in the shower and clean the room a little while the other one’s not there, put some nice clothes on and head out.

“Hiya Harry!”

They turn and see the bright orange mane before they see the man himself, his trademark gentle smile on.

“Hey Ed” Harry answers with a lot less enthusiasm

“Everything alright?” Ed asks, because he’s Ed and he’s not a nosy person but he’s a caring person and he’ll always ask out of that rare genuine concern no one seems to have anymore “Saw Liam looking down the other day” he adds

“Yeah? Well, he’s an ass and he deserves to be down” Harry counters

“Mmmm” Ed musses and sometimes Zayn could slap him just to see that knowing look from his stupidly cute face “Ok, if you say so. Where you headed?”

“Feeding their addiction” Niall mock whispers; and because he’s Niall they all en up laughing it up.

Ed’s face seems to light up and before they know it he’s already invited himself to go with them and get something for his own.

“Wanna get matching tattoos on our friendship?” he asks Harry in a joke

“Ok”

“What?” Zayn could kiss Harry. That dumbfounded expression on Ed’s face is something he had yet to see and the moment is just too precious.

“Ok, what you wanna get?” Harry asks, all seriousness on his voice

“How about Pingu?”

And ok, Harry will definitely back out after that.

“Ok”

For a second there, Zayn thinks Harry will laugh it out, but then they’re picking designs and the needle is on his skin while Niall laughs and Zayn considers needing different friends.

But Harry’s smiling brightly again and, no, Zayn doesn’t need new friends.

When they leave Harry and Ed have got their friendship tattoos, Harry’s smiling happily, Niall’s hungry and Zayn has got his sleeve finished.

Several “Can we please get something to eat? I’m starving!” from the blonde lad, they decide to stop at a small cafe because it’s on their way and there’s a nice smell drifting from its inside.

“Welcome to...”

Oh

That’s where Liam works.

How did they not know? Fuck, they need to turn around and leave, although maybe that would only make things worse and more fragile than they already are.

His mind is still processing whether to fight or flight when Harry’s already stomping inside and sitting himself wherever he’s pleased with.

ShitFuckShitFuckingShit

Liam doesn’t look him in the eye but follows them and talks to them in the polite and distant manner of someone doing their job.

“Don’t be an ass Harry, this is his job” Zayn hisses as soon as a very dejected Liam leaves.

Harry pulls a face and opens his mouth to protest but Zayn stops him with a hand gesture, almost pleading him with his eyes.

“What happened to his hair?” Niall asks

“What?”

Because Zayn had been too busy pondering on an action plan to actually look at the boy. When he looks up he finds Harry and Ed already looking the way Liam had taken.

His hair is gone.

Liam’s curls are gone.

What the actual fuck?

It’s not that he’s bald, it’s actually a nice and sort of stylised buzz cut; a nice and sort of stylised buzz cut that brings up his eyes and doesn’t hide the clean cut of his jaw.

Well, fuck.

If Zayn had troubles keeping his pining in check before, he’d definitely have more with the way Liam looks then.

Not that he was sure they’d be seeing each other a lot, or at all for that matters; that thought was enough to pull him from his reverie of the man’s anatomy and into a pit of sadness at the loss of, not only the bloke he was in love with, but his best friend.

“Lads, I’m not really hungry. See you at home, yeah?” his chair scrapes the wooden floor as he stands and pretends not to notice the saddened looks from Niall and Harry.

Ed, bless him, merely waves happily at his retreating form.

Three blocks later the sun is no longer up in the sky and the thin mist of London’s temperamental weather has his jacket slightly humid.

It’s a lie, he thinks, and scowls at everybody who might as much as had the thought that walking clears people’s heads and thoughts; because for the time he’s been outside (pacing, walking, smoking and maybe jogging like a lunatic) his head has been filled with nothing but Liam. As he walks back to his flat his brain is drowning with the other man’s presence.

He needs to write.

So he writes, furiously, needy, rapidly, almost without thought for the words the ball of his pen scratches and burns on the fragile paper of his notebook. Bleeding words that create new worlds and birth characters with personalities he may or may not know. Dragons and mermaids, superheroes and everyday teenagers; living between dead butterflies and the high hopes of the withering pages of books.

Maybe it’s a lie, he muses, maybe it’s a lie that we write about what we know. Maybe it’s more that we write about what we need, about what we crave.

Because for all the thoughtless writing, when Zayn reads some of his pages, they’re scrawled with warm hands and gentle eyes and full lips; the ghost of kisses he’s never known, the touch of cuddles he couldn’t imagine. But there’s also darkness and heartbreak and pining and unrequited love, and that, that he knows.

Midway through the night he hears movement in the room adjacent to his, Liam’s room, which had been unnervingly quiet and maybe even unoccupied for days. There’s the sound of shuffling things and drawers being opened and closed, feet moving around, hands lifting things, clothes being strewn, a hit? Followed by a curse and yes, yes that was a hit; before it going quiet again.

With a quiet smile of relief, Zayn assumes Liam has gone to sleep.

Yet he can’t muster the exhaustion to sleep, so he just writes and writes until his fingers are cramped and his wrist hurts from the way he’s held the pen so tight.

Morning found him sprawled on top of messy bed sheets, with his eyes blood shot from lack of sleep and shallow breaths racking his frame; all in all, he could have passed for a homeless or a junkie. Fact is that when noise begins pouring from the next room, a strange happiness settles on his chest.

After all, isn’t there always a strange sweetness in loving someone that will never love back?

His right hand drops to the side table, blindly looking for his phone, he taps the surface with his palm finally deciding to turn over and actually looking for it; he finds it under his bed with the battery almost gone.

The light of the screen hurts his tired eyes and he squints at the offending thing finally locating what he needed, and oh bliss, it’s a Saturday.

Saturdays are glorious for he has no classes and doesn’t have to present himself at work until late in the afternoon. Deciding it would be a waste of a perfectly free day; Zayn plugs his phone and closes his eyes to chase the sleep that so efficiently eluded him the past night.

Not five minutes pass when Niall throws his door open to close it in a not-so-quiet manner with wild eyes and a concerned frown.

“Vat’is’it?” he half murmurs, his tongue feeling heavy and thick against his words.

“Um...”

“Come on, Niall, I’m sleepy”

“oh-yeah-ok-Louis’ here” 

“What?” he sits up straight because just what is Louis doing in his flat after not contacting him for God knows how many weeks? And, wait, why didn’t Zayn, his writer, know about him being there?

“Um, yeah, that’s the other thing” and Niall looks a bit embarrassed, which is weird given the fact that Niall has the most I-don’t-give-two-fucks attitude Zayn has ever met.

He only raises his eyebrow to egg Niall on.

“He’s with Harry”

“Oh, ok, just tell him that I’ll be right out...” his mouth falters at Niall’s face

“He’s with Harry”

“Oh....ooooh” understanding dawning on his face “How did that happen?”

And it’s mostly a question to air that doesn’t need or require an answer, but Niall answers anyway.

“Yesterday, after you left, we had a bit of an...um...awkward dinner” Niall cringes at the thought “Liam behaved greatly for how much of an ass Harry was being, mind you. Anyways, Ed just left after that and Harry said he wanted to get plastered so we went to a bar nearby and Louis was there and, somewhere between a first pint and several tequila shots, Louis tongue was down Harry’s throat while Harry’s hands accidentally slipped down your guy’s pants. Not sure what happened after that, I lost them and just came back” he gives Zayn an apologetic smile that Zayn can’t either wave away or mirror from the look of utter shock on his face.

Zayn clears his throat a twice and fumbles with opening and closing his mouth three times before actually saying anything. “So, where are they now?”

“Yeah, that’s” and it’s Niall clearing his throat then “they’resortofsleepingnakedontopofeachotheronthecouchofthelivingroom”

If that was English, in any time or era or accent ever, then Zayn has definitely been speaking some sort of latin or dead tongue on the whole of his life.

“I’m sorry, what?” also, his brain is still slow from lack of sleep and surplus of phrases.

A heavy sigh falls from Niall’s lips before he dares repeat himself. “They’re sort of sleeping naked on top of each other on the couch of the living room”

“Oh” he’s sure his eyes are as big as saucepans after that “How did that happen?” because he can’t think of another thing to say.

“Guess they were too drunk to....”

A strangled cry comes from said living room and it seems that Liam has just found the pair of corpses.

Liam, he thinks. Liam’s there, while they are there, a slow smile spreads his cheeks before he can stop it.

Someone tugs him outside, and oh, Niall’s walking fast to the kitchen. It’s funny, it really is, the beet red flushed Liam against the angry Harry and the overwhelming Louis.

Shit.

Harry’s angry.

“Well, good morning to you” Zayn teases, a knowing smirk adorning his lips.

“Oh shut it” Louis waves as he stretches and walks around looking for his clothes “Well, young Harold” he presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips after getting fully dressed “I need to run now but I’ll call you later” another kiss, a soft smile and, once again, the door closes behind him before anyone has had any time to figure him out.

An awkward silence settles between the four of them, tension cackling as Harry glares towards Liam and the former looks at no one but the floor.

With a jerky move Harry walks to the bathroom, not without shouldering Liam in the way. Liam has never been good dealing with violence and such directed at him, he either goes berserk and physically injures someone (which isn’t that hard with how much he works out) or he shuts down and avoids it altogether.

He chooses the second.

So Liam shuts his eyes tight, heaves a sigh and walks out the door purposely not looking at anyone.

“At least he spent the night here” Niall says without much enthusiasm, but he’s right, at least Liam is back in a sort of way. So Zayn can’t really argue and does nothing but reply an assertive hum.

Their lives go like that for an odd number of weeks: Liam sleeps and wakes up there, he doesn’t look anyone in the eye, and by his attitude anyone may think he’s a new guy as opposed to someone that has been living there for the past three years. Harry, well, Harry still seems angry but won’t say the reason; he acts like an ass to Liam and whenever the two are in a room at the same time, even air feels uncomfortable at being there. Niall just eats his feelings away while trying to talk to both Liam and Harry (the first running away scared shitless and the second just shrugging and joking the thing away) Louis has taken to visit almost everyday, spending most of his time in Harry’s room and the spare time helping Zayn with his book.

(Zayn is just too busy to realize anything besides his book and studies and work and trying not to punch himself everytime he feels giddy about Liam being there)

Things go like that, that is until Niall has enough and rounds them up (even Louis because apparently the five of them are a thing by then) and sits them in the living room.

It’s kind of weird, seeing the carefree Niall with an almost angry expression surveying the whole lot of them.

But Zayn knows Niall, knows how his bubbly personality gains him friends everywhere he goes, but knows how his loyalty has cost him broken noses and broken hearts. So he doesn’t complain, just sits and waits.

“This has gotten ridiculous” are the first words that leave him

“Whatever do you mean” Harry snorts, earning a glare from Zayn and a reprimanding pinch from Louis.

“I mean, Harry” Niall’s practically hissing “that whatever is going on between the two of you” he says motioning to the general direction of Liam and Harry “has gotten ridiculous and we need to work it out”

“Because you’re an expert at working things out, aren’t you Niall?” and ok, that’s not fair, not when Niall has been there for them almost instantly after meeting.

“Don’t you dare turn this on me”

“Whatever” Harry huffs and it’s such a reminder of how he’s the youngest one, how despite his tall frame and broad back he’s still sort of a nineteen-year-old-really-smart child.

Silence settles against their frames, their stances a mix of anger and embarrassment and confusion and disbelief.

Someone clears their throat and it takes them the whole of a minute to realize it came from Liam.

“Um” Liam has never been good at talking crowds, crowds of strangers; they weren’t strangers, although by the way things had been they might as well have. “Listen, I...ugh Jesus” he mutters in frustration as he runs a hand through the already growing back hair “ok, I-I’m sorry. That day, I just, I don’t know. I just freaked out and I guess I didn’t know how to react and just ended up fucking things up and then I didn’t know how to mend it back and it was just so stupid, and I’m just, I’m sorry” his words are rushed, as if saying them faster will make them forgive him faster (Zayn thinks that at least two of them already have) and by the end his voice has taken on a pleading note that breaks Zayn’s heart.

But his throat isn’t working, so he merely manages a jerky nod while Niall says a brightly grinned yes and hugs Liam tightly, pulling Zayn to their three men hug a second later.

Three men hug.

Three men hug.

Three.

Shit. Harry.

When they finally let go and turn to face the other two; Zayn’s faced with a content looking Louis, his expression something soft he hadn’t seen yet, and when he looks at Harry there’re tears flowing down his cheeks. Traces of anger seem forgotten as he too stands and walks toward Liam, to curl his long arms around the bulkier man and tuck his head on Liam’s neck.

“You fucking idiot” he says, his voice muffled by the way his lips are pressed against a patch of skin.

Liam laughs at that, and somehow it’s the most glorious sound Zayn has heard in what feels like a long time.

Just like that they fall back into their routine, with the only change that Louis has turned into an honorary flat-mate.

That until a Friday catches them playing FIFA and Niall has the good memory to ask Liam about Danielle and whether or not he should be getting ready for the Friday outings.

Somewhere in his mind Zayn curses Niall’s goodness, until he sees Liam’s slightly dejected face.

“What?” they all ask in unison

“We kinda broke up a while back?”

“What do you mean “kinda”?” Louis asks “you either break up or you don’t, or what? You’re not an official couple now but keep on hooking up?” his voice is more teasing than angry but Liam still winces at the implications.

“No, no! Jesus, man, how could you...? no, just no” his hands move around frantically completing the rambling “it was just something that had been coming for a while, I guess” though his voice is a bit calmer, Zayn can see a trace of pain flicker through his eyes.

“What happened?” Harry asks, the FCB completely forgotten. For a moment Liam looks like he’d really, really rather not answer the question, until he sighs and does.

“Umm yeah, well, you see, we had some troubles and we just weren’t really compatible with each other”

And yeah, that’s a half-assed answer and they know it, Liam knows it; Liam and his terrible lying skills know it, his teeth worrying his bottom lip and his expression holding the childish hope of not being asked again.

So they don’t ask.

Yet.

“Liam” Niall begins slowly “is that a tattoo?”

Four pairs of eyes focus to the point on his right wrist where Niall’s eyes are set, and there it is, black letters inked into the pale of skin.

They all look up almost in time to catch the not-subtle blush on Liam’s cheeks.

“What does it say?” Harry asks eagerly, him being a tattoo lover from a young age

Instead of answering, Liam lifts his wrist for them to read.

Only time will tell...

“Nice” Harry says and he has already walked to Liam and is currently examining the thought with critical eyes “Where did you get it?”

“That place you go to” Liam shrugs easily

“What does it mean?” Niall asks

Liam’s eyes travel from Niall to Zayn in a second, blink and you loose it. Zayn blinks and he thinks he’s either lost it or imagined it.

“Just, you know, only time will tell”

They all share the silence in their space; until Harry breaks a smirk followed by a hearty laugh.

“That’s deep mate” he half mocks

And Zayn knows the tattoo means something else, and Zayn knows Harry and Niall know and Liam knows they know; and it’s all quite confusing so he stops thinking about it and catalogues it to the drawer of things he’ll ask Liam later.

Later when days have passed and their routine is back to those four lads that found pushed upon each other’s space and lives on their first year at Uni.

Them four plus Louis.

Because Louis is overbearing and overwhelming; and somehow he unapologetically thrusts himself in their weird foursome of sorts and fits. He fits with his styled hair and blue eyes and no socks and mischief and even with his stinky feet.

And it’s all nice.

Yeah, thinks Zayn, it’s all quite nice.

They’re in one of those parties university kids are supposed to attend in order to fulfil the whole university experience. They’re all quite drunk, well, all except Liam who only looks at them and laughs at their drunkenness.

“Harreh!” Louis is yelling, it’s amusing really, the two of them even more entangled in each other, unable to keep their hands or skin from the other.

(Zayn ignores that little twinge of jealousy at the back of his mind)

One of Niall’s hands, Zayn isn’t sure which, slaps Harry’s attention to him. “Harry” he slurs

“What?” Harry’s eyes are glazed from alcohol and tongue and lust and Louis, his lips swollen and his hands are no longer in a visible place.

“Who’s that?”

A pale finger points at somewhere in the general direction of front (or is that the right?) where a rather short guy is standing; he’s surrounded by people and they all laugh at something he’s said.

“Umm” Harry’s brows furrow in thought, his drunken mind taking more time to process whatever goes in there “Oh, that’s Josh, he’s in um...some of my classes”

And with that his mouth goes back to where it’s more needed.

“Harry, come on” Niall goes on “introduce us”

“For fuck’s sake Niall” he drawls before untangling his limbs from a protesting Louis and making his way to the group.

He returns with Josh, who is remarkably sober than them, and only smiles amusedly at the impromptu of it all.

“Josh-Niall-Zayn-Liam-Louis” and that’s that for Harry because he and Louis disappear into the sea of bodies in hopes to not be interrupted again.

“Um hi” Josh grins, his eyebrows drawn up in amusement

“Hi” both Liam and Zayn say at the same time and Niall just stares a little before breathing his own greeting.

“Wanna get out of here?” Josh asks, for a moment Zayn is utterly confused until he catches up to the fact that Josh is staring at Niall and Niall is staring at Josh.

Without further words Niall’s hand finds one of Josh’s and they also disappear somewhere, leaving a very drunk Zayn with a very sober Liam.

If Zayn’s brain was working properly instead of getting lost in the labyrinth of emotions he’s come to associate with Liam, he would either run or try and act as normal as possible; but his brain is drunk and his senses inebriated and Liam is looking at him in that way that gives him hope and breaks his heart at the same time.

No one can blame him.

No one can blame him for placing a hand on Liam’s forearm, for leaning forward or for finally pressing his lips on those tantalizing plum ones that had filled his fantasies for so long.

No one can blame him.

Except he can.

Zayn can blame himself for the surprised noise that leaves Liam’s throat and the way his body paralyzes.

His heart sinks and his thought run wild.

So he retreats and his sobered mind offers the consolation of blaming alcohol.

“Wait” a warm hand pulls him back in “Zayn you’re too drunk” Liam begins and tears are beginning to burn the corner of Zayn’s eyes, yet he won’t let them fall, not in front of Liam “Zayn, look at me” he begs, but Zayn doesn’t.

One of Liam’s fingers rests under Zayn’s chin and lifts his face until their eyes meet.

“There” Liam smiles “you’re too drunk, I don’t want our first kiss to be like this, yeah? Let’s wait and talk tomorrow, yeah?”

Zayn doesn’t understand anything, his brain is too fogged and his body suddenly feels tired, so he does what he knows and nods with a furrowed brow.

A crinkly smile is the sole answer he gets.

And that’s that.

Until morning (or noon) when he wakes with a pounding head and Niall’s groans from across the hallway.

His head hurts too much and his memory is hazy with everything that may or may not have happened. And then there’s sound on Liam’s room and realization makes his body jump to a sitting position, which was not the best idea as he only manages to fall back with a splitting headache and dizziness threatening to throw his insides out.

A groan escaped him in frustration; his hands curling around his stomach as it churned and twisted in a complicated knot he was sure wouldn’t come off.

There’s a quiet knock on his door, but clearly whoever it is doesn’t expect a reply or an invite as the door just opens itself before closing swiftly.

Zayn can’t see who it is from where he lays with his eyes closed and his head burning with mini explosions.

“Hey” it’s soft, figures, it’s Liam.

His eyes blink lazily at the newly arrived and he tries to smile, but bile is rising up his throat and he need to run or risk bathing Liam in vomit.

So Zayn does the obvious.

He jumps out of bed and the motion makes him even sicker ending up on him throwing up on Liam’s shoes anyways.

He’s mortified.

It’s not only embarrassing that he threw up on the bloke he’s been in love with for over two years, but the smell is pungent and hits his senses with the urge to throw, whatever liquid still remains inside him, up.

But Liam doesn’t run away or shout or vomit.

He stays there and when Zayn pushes past him and into the bathroom, he follows suit; crouching next to Zayn in the cramped space and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Zayn’s hair sticks to his forehead and cold sweat runs down his back, he realizes he’s shivering with sickness.

This is so stupid, his mind manages, so fucking stupid.

It’s not as if he hadn’t been drunk before, because he has, they all have. So it really appears to be pretty fucking stupid for him to be so sick over one night of drunken enjoyment.

Maybe he should tell that to Liam while simultaneously asking him to step outside and not make his misery any bigger. He seriously thinks about it; but Liam’s hand keeps on rubbing his back and at some point his fingers tucked his hair away and it feels nice, being taken care of, it feels nice.

So he just motions a sort of signal of him feeling better; to which Liam stands up, flushes the toilet and runs a damp towel over Zayn’s forehead.

They’re halfway out the bathroom when a groaning Niall appears and almost runs them over in his haste of getting inside; listening through the door it’s obvious Niall has got the same problem Zayn had, and that’s even more stupid because Niall is Irish and everybody knows Irish lads are the heaviest weights.

Something warm is pressed against his palm, it’s a bit clammy and it takes Zayn’s perturbed mind to notice Liam has entwined their hands; he looks down and all but stares at the contrast of their skin, their sweat mixing.

Liam is taking him somewhere, pulling him somewhere.

Zayn just complies.

Somewhere in the few paces it takes to cross from the bathroom to his room, they take a turn. Zayn doesn’t realize until he’s sitting (almost laying down) on Liam’s bed with said object’s owner patting his hair and offering a glass of water, which he accepts and drinks greedily.

There’s something prickly about his skin, Zayn can’t exactly pin point it while water soothes his dry throat, but as soon as he’s done and looks up; there are two eyes focused on him.

And he can’t really understand or take it.

So he looks away and silence engulfs them. Zayn counts...

1-2-3-4...

Liam clears his throat when he’s gotten to 20.

There they are, those big gentle eyes of Liam, looking at him with so much intent, almost studying him. Maybe asking for an answer, but Zayn can’t be sure, not when he’s squirming under such a gaze and his head still suffers the remains of a hangover headache.

And Liam stares, softly, gently, apologetically? And demanding. Definitely demanding.

“Zayn” he half whispers and then just bites his lower lip, as if to stop himself from saying any more.

Finally looking away, Liam runs his hands through his too-short hair and huffs a heavy sigh. Zayn is just confused.

“Liam” he calls softly, and somewhere in his mind he chastises himself for not brushing his teeth after throwing up twice that morning “Liam” he repeats.

Liam smiles at him, all gentle and loving and adoring, and Zayn is all but more confused at that.

And Liam won’t say anymore, he just stands and plants himself in front of Zayn, their faces too far from each other in their positions. A second goes with Liam staring down and Zayn staring up, it would all be incredibly sexual if not for the tense expectancy at someone or another’s words to finally spill.

No words spill.

Because Liam kneels and they’re looking at each other and Zayn can’t look away, he can’t look away from the swirl of emotions in Liam’s eyes that he’s sure is twirling in his own. There are hands, warm and big, grasping caringly the sides of his face as space gets smaller and air gets heavier.

Lips are a wonderful thing. Yes, they are.

Especially when those lips belong to Liam and they are pressed chastely but surely over Zayn’s; once again Zayn berates himself for not brushing his teeth. And then he doesn’t mind because Liam’s warm against him and at that moment the world couldn’t possibly be turning.

It could’ve lasted a lifetime or no time at all.

They’re just staring at each other, their foreheads pressed together and their breathing peacefully playing the air between them.

“I’m sorry”

“What?”

“I’m sorry”

That’s odd “Why?” Zayn asks

“Just, for not acknowledging my feelings before and leaving you alone with yours” a brief sadness tints Liam’s smile

“It’s ok” Zayn says softly “not like you forced me to fall for you”

It’s supposed to be funny, a joke, something to break the ice and tension of such a serious moment; but somehow it holds nothing but truth, the falling and pinning had been nobody but Zayn’s doing.

“Doesn’t matter now” Liam smiles and presses a new kiss, and yeah, Zayn really needs to get up and brush his teeth. So he does.

And that’s that.

Probably not the best first kiss in the history of how first kisses go, what with all the vomit and hangover and headache.

But then, it’s the perfect first kiss for Liam and Zayn, and for ZaynandLiam.

If being Liam’s friend was great as it was, being Liam’s boyfriend (Zayn can’t get over himself with the title) is definitely glorious.

The boy can kiss, with his hands cupping Zayn’s face or pulling his hair or holding his waist, and his tongue almost violating Zayn’s mouth in an almost attempt of memorizing and marking it all; then there was the way he enjoyed having his arms around Zayn.

For someone as private as Zayn PDAs had never been something pleasant, but standing there, in the middle of a hallway, with Liam’s arm securely around his shoulders (and a brief kiss pressed against his cheek) he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

The fact that Liam has a body sculpted after Greek gods is a mere plus.

The other fact that Liam seems to want to wait for them have intercourse is quite frustrating to say the least.

(Especially when there are two other couples in their same flat having sex like there exists no tomorrow)

Zayn wants it. Not only because he’s a healthy young man (with a fit boyfriend) but because he craves the feeling of warm skin and hands, he dreams with the way Liam’s skin will fill under his fingers and the sounds that could invade his senses.

But a bigger part of his brain was still unsure as to where he stood with Liam and until where he could push the man.

He reads to him. They’re curled up together on Zayn’s bed; with Liam’s head on Zayn’s lap with the lights dimmed and the last rays of sun bleeding into their eyes. And Zayn reads to Liam.

Words just spill from his lips and he knows Liam isn’t really paying attention to them but to the sound of his voice, Zayn doesn’t really care, and maybe even likes it a little.

Not much time after the sun is gone, Zayn hears the soft snores of Liam’s sleeping form, he smiles softly still in a bit of awe of finally getting his feelings reciprocated. He sets the book aside, some obscure second-hand novel he’s picked up in passing by.

There are no dreams when he sleeps like that, when Liam’s arms go around his waist and pull him close, when Liam’s chest breaths against his back and there’s a warm puff of air at the back of his neck.

It’s still dark, or maybe his eyes are still closed, Zayn tries to blink them open and confirms that it is still dark. There’s a soft caress moving over his ribs and a gentle pressure on his lips.

He moans and the body next to his freezes.

“No, wait” Zayn’s voice is thick and rough from sleep, and his arm feels heavy when he lifts it to grab Liam.

“Sorry” Liam says, it’s hard to make out his face in the dark “didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s ok” Zayn smiles “wouldn’t mind being awaken like this” he teases, and he can feel Liam smile more than he can see it.

“Alright” Liam chuckles low, the sound reverberating in the stillness of the night, Zayn tries not to think about the shiver that runs down his spine. 

Liam’s tongue runs his bottom lip and Zayn’s helpless to do but open up to him; it’s slow and lazy and all kinds of sweet, a moan escape Zayn and he can feel Liam’s lips quirk up against his.

It’s too quick to be noticed, but there’s a chance, and their lips move against each other sensually instead of lazily; blood rushes down Zayn’s body to pool on his lower belly.

Yeah, alright, it’s not like they haven’t got each other off before, but Zayn wants more and it tugs at him how Liam isn’t willing to give that up yet.

Liam moves, and suddenly the world spins a little bit faster and air just ceases to exist; his hands go under Zayn’s shirt lifting it up and tossing it without any delicacy. His lips travel down the expanse of Zayn’s neck, biting and sucking a deep mark where everyone will see for at least a week, the patch of kin stings a little as his tongue soothes it over.

There’s so much skin.

Risking a look, Zayn realizes Liam’s shirt is also gone and, oh, bless the gods that made Liam’s torso and that set of abs. If he could, and he could if he wasn’t as comfortable as he is, Zayn would turn them over and lick every cress and dip in those muscles.

But Liam keeps moving on his body; kissing, licking, biting skin tentatively, maybe tempting it or daring it to elicit a sound or a shiver from the man under him.

And it does, both shivers and moans fill the stance, because it’s Liam and those are Liam’s lips on his skin; and there’s nothing Zayn can do to keep the evidence of his arousal quiet.

A thin sheen of sweat covers both of their bodies as they slide against each other, backs arching in pursuit of the divine hell of too little friction and not enough touch.

“ZaynZaynZayn”

He can hear Liam’s roughed up voice and feel the bulge in his boxers rutting against his right knee. A hot mouth and calloused fingers tease and pinch each of his pearled nipples, sending shocks of pleasure from his chest to his toes as they curl around the covers.

There’s a wet spot on his own briefs where pre-come has started to leak, and Zayn can feel Liam’s own wetness leaving traces on his bare leg.

(And somewhere in his mind Zayn thanks whoever gave them the idea of sleeping without pyjama bottoms)

Desperate huffs of air are being sucked and puffed out. With a swift motion Liam has Zayn completely naked, the cool air hitting his free cock making him hiss.

Just like that Liam’s hands are away from him.

“Liam” he gasps in demand “Liam!”

Yet Liam doesn’t get back on top of him or touches him.

So Zayn opens his eyes. A gasp leaves involuntarily at the sight before him.

Liam is there, stark naked at the end of the bed, sitting on his heels and just admiring Zayn with the fondest look on his face (and maybe a hint of incredulity at having him)

You’re sort of stupid, Zayn thinks, I’ve already been yours for so long.

He curls his fingers on the back of Liam’s neck and forcefully pulls him down into a heated kiss, while hoping to put into it the things he won’t dare say out loud.

“Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, I’m sorry” Liam says, their cocks are hard and rubbing against each other as Liam moves his hips in an inelegant rhythm “I’m sorry, I wanted to wait, take you on a date to an expensive restaurant; you know, like the one you met Louis in; and then, and then, just...”

Zayn doesn’t hear the rest of it, he just bites the words out of Liam’s mouth and then soothes his incoherent sentences with a languid sweep of the tongue.

It goes like that.

Their first time together.

With Zayn moaning into his own pillow as Liam’s tongue breaches his hole open just to be joined by those thick and calloused fingers.

It goes like that.

With Zayn’s cum splattered into indistinctive patterns on both their stomachs and Liam biting his orgasm into Zayn’s right shoulder. 

Liam’s whole body shudders and spasms before he collapses onto Zayn’s cum-painted chest.

He rolls his hips softly, sliding out of Zayn’s over-sensitized entrance; moving only to throw the condom away. Angry scratch marks write over Liam’s back and biceps; and Zayn smiles proudly at his own doing there.

Cum is drying over Zayn’s torso and it’s beginning to feel disgusting, the mix of sweat and spunk and saliva, though he really can’t care.

It’s ridiculous, really, how well they both already know each other; so well, that Liam returns next to him with a damp cloth to clean them over.

“Stay” Zayn asks when Liam makes to move, which only makes Liam smile in that soft way he’d been smiling for a while.

“I was only going to put this cloth away”

“Just throw somewhere on the floor”

“Alright” Liam chuckles before doing so and then settling himself next to Zayn, his arms automatically pulling the other man closer.

They stay like that.

Chest to chest, exchanging breaths in long kisses, hands re-discovering skin and stares meeting in the middle.

Zayn thinks it’s sort of perfect. (Even when Liam apologizes and promises to still take him on that date)

Heartbeats and weeks pass by. Josh keeps showing up at random times of the day and Louis almost lives with them; Zayn’s book runs its course with them picking fonts and papers and Zayn doing the cover art.

Happiness is a measured thing.

Music is playing softly in the background, warm lights illuminate the place, the surroundings are intimidating and it’s all a kind of déjà vu of that night in which Zayn Malik met Louis Tomlinson to first discuss a book.

“This is like a dream” Zayn whispers to the general direction of the air in front of him.

“You deserve it” Liam smiles planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Like hell you do” Niall pipes “You’ve been working like crazy over this”

“I’m so proud of you” Harry beams and engulfs Zayn in jet another crushing hug.

Copies of his book are being passed around and some people had stopped to greet and congratulate him. Social events have never been his strong point, but it’s his book’s launching cocktail, his motherfucking book; so Zayn endures it and beams and enjoys it.

Louis has been lost for over an hour when he reapers with a gorgeous girl hooked on his arm; “Well, hello there, hope you lads are having a good time?” he smiles, all of them agree; all of them except Harry, who is too busy glaring at said girl.

“People don’t talk about a Tomlinson Party for nothing” he snaps his fingers for emphasize, the same joking Louis they’ve met and known and love.

The girl clears her throat and smiles apologetically at them.

“Oh, right” Louis says “This is Eleanor, a friend from childhood” the fact that he accents the word ‘friend’ while staring directly at Harry doesn’t get commented upon, equal to Harry’s less threatening gaze after hearing it.

Eleanor turns out to be incredibly pleasant; with a nice sense of humour, witty remarks and glasses of wine that could rival Niall.

There are many unknown people attending, but there are also his friends and his boyfriend making it all better and comfortable and approachable. Conversation and wine keep running, laughs are boisterous and Louis is as overwhelming as ever; this is Zayn’s event, it’s his book release and his entire being fills with pride, unabashed and honest.

Zayn realizes the place never really felt like a déjà vu.

“I see you’ve met Eleanor” Louis’ step-father joins their group, an affable smile on his lips

“Indeed, she’s quite the deviant” Niall laughs

“Oh, indeed she is” Mr. Tomlinson laughs “she’d need to be one in order to stand Louis for so long”

“How long have they known each other?” Harry asks

“Mmmm well, we’ve been neighbours since we moved here but they’ve already been dating for about two years, yeah?” he says turning to Eleanor for confirmation.

Temperature appears to have dropped a few degrees below zero. It could be funny, with Harry’s surprised hurt and Eleanor’s horrified expression. Mr. Tomlinson is just smiling there pleasantly, seeming unfazed by the reactions around him.

“Dating?” and of course Liam is the first one to snap out of it with composure

“Yes, dating” Mr. Tomlinson laughs “when Louis announced that Eleanor was his girlfriend it didn’t shock any of us if I’m being frank” he adds with another happy laugh

They all fall silent after that, none of them risking a look at Harry.

“Oh” Harry finally says. Just “Oh”

It all goes fast, Harry storming out with Liam trailing to catch him. Zayn, Niall and Josh just standing there looking as confused as they feel; Mr. Tomlinson frowning in question and Eleanor looking as horrified as ever.

“Is your friend alright?”

“Yeah, he must feel a bit sick” Niall answers in the fake calm that precedes a storm, Zayn can’t seem to find his own capacity to breath.

Because for all the things Louis is, he never really struck them as a liar or as someone who would deceive and betray Harry in such a way.

Because it’s Harry; Harry who is honest to the point of childish sincerity; Harry who wears his heart on his sleeve and loves everyone and loves intensely to the point of forgetting even himself.

They excuse themselves, not even bothering to look for Louis; Zayn isn’t sure what he’d do if he saw the man then. Blind rage explodes and fills his chest as soon as Louis’ face appears in his mind, but no, he owes so much to him; but Harry, he’s hurt Harry.

And Harry’s been there for so long. With Liam, with school, with the book.

So Zayn feels rightfully entitled to be on Harry’s side and feel incredibly angry at Louis. Even when the man hasn’t had the opportunity to explain himself. (And Zayn hopes and prays that Harry will give him the chance to do so)

When he gets outside Liam has already stopped a taxi and has Harry sitting inside. It’s quite pitiful, the sight of a gentle giant crumpled under the weight of his own crushed illusions.

Josh drove to the party, so he and Niall leave on their own promising to meet again at their flat.

The ride home is tense and silenced and everything a ride with friends shouldn’t be. Both Liam and Zayn pretend not to see but they can hear Harry’s tears in the pitch black stillness of the car.

“I don’t want to talk about it” Harry croaks as soon as the door is open, he almost runs to his room and caves in there with the lock in place and no room for doubt that he wants to be alone.

“Give him some time” Liam soothes Zayn with a kiss on the forehead, but it’s all the sorts of warm Zayn doesn’t want right then, it’s but a reminder of how utterly shit Harry must be feeling because of a man Zayn thought a friend and brought into their lives.

“Hey” Liam’s eyes find his “it’s not your fault, I’m sure Louis has an explanation for this” he smiles faintly, like he can’t believe his own words and is trying to convince himself as much as Zayn.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s wait, yeah?”

Even for London’s weather parameters, everything feels too chilly, like mist could get inside their bones and freeze them until they’re unusable again.

Maybe we’re blowing this out of proportion, Zayn thinks, maybe it’ll all feel less big and less apocalyptical tomorrow.

Sleep takes its time, his eyelids fluttering in the realm of half-sleepiness that is both annoying and amusing; except Zayn feels more annoyed than amused. Almost ready to just get up, find Louis and kick something out of him.

“Shhh” Liam’s voice tickles the back of his neck “go to sleep, Zayn, we’ll figure it out in the morning”

His muscles relax into the loose embrace, his breathing evening out; falling asleep like that is easy, with the warm press of Liam’s chest against his back and his soft snores tickling his hair.

“Liam?” he whispers

“Mmmm?”

“Liam, are you sleeping already?”

“’m trying”

Zayn huffs a mock-annoyed breath at that. “Where’s that mate of yours? Tom, was it? I haven’t seen him in a while”

He can feel Liam’s arms tense around him, and though he doesn’t retreat or pull away, there’s a certain wariness about the air shifting around them.

“He’s been...busy” he answers “don’t worry about that, let’s just sleep and we’ll talk to Harry in the morning”

“Ok” Zayn agrees with reluctance.

It’s so quiet and Zayn thinks he can hear the hands of their kitchen clock ticking irretrievable seconds while he does nothing but breathe.

Breathing is good, it means you’re somehow still alive and can keep on living, changing, having possibilities. 

“Liam?” he says again

“Zayn” Liam drawls after a bit

“Liam, I love you”

It’s out.

It’s out and it’s scary, scarier than just loving him from afar and in secret, away where his words couldn’t enslave him and trap Liam into the obligating feeling of retribution.

Nothing moves for a while and Zayn allows the fleeting hope of a sleeping Liam fill his mind. Until Liam moves his arms and untangled himself from their embrace.

That’s it. Zayn thinks. THAT’S fucking it.

Tears aren’t allowed to dwell in his eyes, not while Liam is still in the room and might see them. If anything, Zayn couldn’t harbour negative feelings against his friend, so he won’t allow the guilt of hurting Zayn haunt him.

Zayn closes his eyes as he waits for the bed to dip and Liam to leave. But that doesn’t happen. What happens is a pair of big hands turning him until he lays on his back, Liam’s arms wrapping around him and soft lips on his.  
“I love you”

“What?” asks Zayn

“I love you”

“Oh” they both smile at each other, because they’re both big dorks that took too much time to fall into each other; at the moment, when everything seems fallen, it’s all they can really do.

The warmness in his chest almost appearing unfair to Zayn.

“She cheated on you?!”

The door burst open and a red-faced Niall stomps inside; Josh stays on the doorway looking apologetic about not being able to control the Irish lad.

“What?” they both ask, not bothering to move from their position.

“She-that cunt-that-she cheated on you!” Niall is positively flailing his arms making the small room loo even smaller and crowded.

“She what?” asks Zayn, and his tone is nothing short of murderous.

“Let’s, let’s go outside, yeah?” Liam says, moving up from the bed and taking Zayn’s hand to guide him to their living room.

Niall can’t seem to be able to stay seated or still at all; he simply paces from one side to the other worrying his hands, his eyebrows furrowed in an angry expression.

Zayn shots a questioning look at Josh, but he only shakes his head sadly and points towards Liam. Liam, who is just standing there, in the middle of the room, trying to collect the pieces of Niall and explain what they mean.

“You see” he sighs heavily “a while ago Danielle and I had some troubles and there was sort of a fight and she got angry and refused to break up, next thing I knew was she and Tom had slept together behind my back, and yeah, that’s about it”

It’s astounding how he managed to stretch a sentence so much, and even more how he managed to say it all in one breath; his voice fast and his hands moving slightly along his words, maybe trying to get it over as fast as it could.

Niall is positively panting and fuming and huffing; for all the brightness Niall possess, there’s an equally big and scary part that comes out when those he cares about are hurt. And at that precise moment, Niall is incredibly scary and Zayn could almost feel sorry for that Tom lad.

But he doesn’t. For all he cares and knows, Tom has hurt Liam and he deserves whatever Niall will do.

Anger is slow for Zayn, he can understand it and rationalize it; but when he gets to feel it, it’s with a slow build that burns all the way from his tight throat to the pit of his stomach.

“Niall” Liam’s voice brings him back from his reverie “Niall, please” Liam repeats “it’s in the past, I took care of it, don’t worry about it”

“Don’t worry about it?!” Niall bellows “I’m not worrying about it! I’m just fucking pissed because that fucking cunt went and decided she could just go and cheat on you!”

Josh snorts from where he’s perched on the couch, effectively attracting their attention.

“What?!” Niall’s angry, furious.

“You should listen to him” Josh says with all the calmness and smugness of someone knowing an amusing secret “Liam did take care of it” a smirk crosses his lips, which only seems to inflame Niall even more.

“You should’ve seen Tom after Liam finished with him” and then Josh is cackling, doubling over in mirth and laughter.

No one talks as Josh’s laughter resonates throughout the flat.

“What?” both Niall and Zayn ask at the same time.

“I mean, the poor lad wouldn’t show his face for at least four days” Josh laughs some more

Zayn’s eyes travel from the laughing boy to the face of Liam. His cheeks are burning impossibly red and his stare is trained on the floor, as if trying to hide his self behind the air around him.

“Liam” Zayn says carefully as he takes the two steps between them “Liam” he demands fiercely when the other doesn’t look up, hooking a finger under the slightly hairy chin to pull his face up.

“Liam, what did you do?” Zayn asks, but he’s voice is more amused than angry.

Brown eyes move frantically around the room, focusing on everything but Zayn. Yet Zayn doesn’t move, his stare doesn’t waver in pinning Liam down.

“Ahem, well, you see” he stutters “when I found out, I was hurt, yeah? Because I had trusted them both and they just, you know” he motions with his hands “but then, and it was a thing of a matter of seconds, then I felt so angry and I just couldn’t help it Zayn” he pleads “I couldn’t help it”

“So you beat the shit out of that low life?” Niall asks from where he still stands, traces of a contained smile tinting his voice.

“Sort of” Liam shrugs apologetically.

He’s adorable, Zayn thinks; and does the only thing he can think of doing; he surges forward, pressing his body hard against Liam’s, biting the soft bow of lips and almost taking their breaths away.

Niall’s laughter sounds through the hallway as he and Josh disappear into his room.

Dreamless nights are a blessing, but then again, Liam himself is also a blessing.

Louis doesn’t appear that morning, or the next ones for over a week. But Zayn doesn’t blame him; for one, he knows Louis must be busy with the book (not only his, but the others he manages) and well, if it was Zayn, he wouldn’t exactly want to see Harry right away.

But Zayn does blame Louis for the way Harry looks.

Harry with his childishness, his dark bands no one but him know, his thrift shop style and Harry without his brilliant smile.

They are the same in so many ways; the books they read, the philosophers they love, the way they’d give it all for those that mattered; but they are also opposite in so many other ways. So Harry doesn’t hole up in his room, no, he goes to class and eats three meals a day and parties like any other university student would.

Harry’s life is the same as before he’d met Louis Tomlinson.

Except Harry won’t smile, and his eyes won’t shine with the same light; leaving Zayn to go to sleep with the guilty happiness of whispered “I love you”s between linen sheets.

“Alright, that’s enough” Liam announces one morning during breakfast “Zayn, you need to call Louis and ask him for an explanation”

“Why me?” the defensive note in his voice, is nothing but a play of air

“You know him better than me” Liam argues easily

“Mmm” Zayn musses as he munches his toast “yeah, but” a heavy sigh falls from his lips “listen Liam, I just, I don’t really think Louis is running away per se” the last syllable going up, giving his statement the quality of an unsure question.

“Like hell he’s not” Liam huffs out “if he’s not running away, as you say, then what the fuck is he doing?” he asks sceptically.

“I think he’s giving Harry time” 

Contrary to any expected reaction, Liam’s eyes don’t widen and he doesn’t laugh sardonically at the idea. No, rather he gives Zayn a look, entirely to alike of the one Louis gives when people are being really stupid, while not saying anything. 

“Time for what?” Liam asks

“To think about things? To put his thoughts together? To not murder him when they see each other again?” Zayn ventures, and yeah, ok, he’s a long shot; but Zayn can still hope for the good man he saw in Louis to be real.

Liam crosses his arms and tenses his shoulder, he’s angry. “Whatever, I’m not sure about his giving-time-method, anything would be better than leaving him in the dark”

“Yeah, I know” Zayn sighs sadly “but, you know? That girl, Eleanor? She seemed genuinely, um, surprised? Sorry? Um I don’t know, but she seemed like she really didn’t want Harry to either know or find out that way”

“Of course she didn’t want Harry to know!” Liam’s raised tone makes Zayn wince “sorry, sorry. Um, yeah, of course she didn’t want him to know, Louis was cheating on him with her”

“I don’t know Liam, maybe it’s a bit more complicated than that”

Liam doesn’t answer, so the argument ends unsettled and unfinished, bugging the back of their minds and electrifying their conversations.

Without realizing it, they are standing on the Monday two weeks after the book release/Eleanor fiasco night. They are standing on a Monday, well, at least three of them are.

A mop of dampened curls clings to the sweaty forehead of its owner, as Harry’s limp form is being carried by Liam and Zayn into his bedroom, his eyes shut and his senses off.

“Fuck” Zayn breathes “how can he be so heavy?”

“He’s really tall and I’d assume his bones are quite wide” Liam answers apparently having no problems carrying dead weight with his stupidly toned arms.

“How did he even get like this?” Zayn asks between recovering breaths after they succeed in putting, or throwing, Harry on his bed.

“Too much time, too many shots”

Zayn knows it isn’t a question of how but of why, because he already knows how it happened; he’d seen Harry shut down slowly into the hole of feeling betrayed after giving it all. He’d known Harry was going to that bloody party with people they didn’t exactly trust, and yet he’d let it all happen, only to be left with a drugged Harry and a missing Louis.

What else is there to do but the only thing he’s capable of?

Voice mail answers the first ten times, but Zayn doesn’t stop, he can’t stop. It works after he’s lost count of the times he’d dialled.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck Louis?!” Zayn yells, he yells without concern because the voice on the other side is far too awake for two in the morning, albeit tired, but far too awake.

“Zayn...” the other starts, exhaustion palpable through the small speaker

“No, you listen to me you piece of shit. I don’t know what your deal with that Eleanor chick is, but the least you could’ve done, the least decent thing you could’ve done is give Harry an explanation” he hisses out, all the control and cool he’d plan on having slipping out.

No answer is heard from Louis and for a moment Zayn thinks he’s been hung up on, but he can hear Louis’ shallow breathing on the other side. And when he speaks again, his voice is tight and restrained, like the pain when trying to talk in the middle of tears.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Can I come over?”

“You can but Harry won’t talk to you right now” Zayn says, all cruelty and sourness.

“What do you mean? How can I explain if he won’t talk to me then?” there’s a part of that exasperatingly bouncing Louis they knew, and somehow that gives a little hope to Zayn.

“He’s been a mess Louis” it’s impossible to keep the tacit accusation from his voice “he went to some party today and as it seems someone drugged one of his drinks, he’s passed out right now”

Louis’ breath hitches and somehow, it doesn’t go back to steady and normal, but rather becomes ragged and huffed; as if he’s suddenly been taken by a great rage. “Someone what?” he hisses between teeth “And you let him go alone?”

“Oh no” Zayn hisses back “you’re not turning this on us, this is all you and you’ll need to take responsibility for the mess you’ve made. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“Of course I do!” Louis yells “of course I do” he repeats softly, and it hits Zayn just how equally broken Louis is about those two shitty weeks and the events that unchained them.

“I-I’ll be there in the morning” Louis says, and just his style, hangs up before Zayn has time to answer or acknowledge him.

Zayn doesn’t sleep that night, his stomach tight in knots only boys scouts should be able to do. Two hours before dawn he regrets his decision of sending Liam back to his own room, yet he doesn’t get up and look for him, too scared of the dark and the monsters that inhabit it.

He’s left there, laying on top of his too cold sheets while he stares onto the ceiling worrying about morning. And he can’t just lay there anymore, but he doesn’t really want to be with someone else; so he gets up and walks to the kitchen, only to find the lights on and a cup of hot tea in a pair of hands.

“Hey” Liam says in that whispered voice reserved for early mornings or shared secrets, that moment feels like both.

“Hey” Zayn answers “couldn’t sleep” he explains

“Yeah, me neither. You’ve spoiled Zayn Malik” he jokes lifting a bit of the weight in Zayn’s conscience, and he’s reminded of why he fell in love with Liam Payne of all people.

“Come sit with me, yeah?”

It’s such a domestic feeling, sitting there next to Liam and sipping tea from the same cup, it makes a weird sort of feeling course through Zayn’s body making the hairs on his arms stand.

The first rays of sunlight are beginning to drip inside their flat when there’s a knock on the door. They already know who it is, so they don’t bother asking who’s or what do you want’s.

They just wrench the door open and tighten their jaws at the sight of the newcomers.

Because there’s two of them.

And one of them isn’t exactly a persona grata to their presence.

“Louis” Zayn says with a sure tightness to his voice “Eleanor” he greets with a non-concealed dislike.

They both wince at his tone, but none comment as they are invited inside and served tea. “Harry won’t be up yet” Zayn informs them coldly, that being their final interaction since Liam has decided to just stand and observe them.

Niall and Josh join them about an hour later, not even them serve to lighten the heavy mist in the room.

Another hour has to pass before noise is heard in Harry’s room, a bump here and a curse there; all but Eleanor crack a fond smile, and yeah, Harry’s what’s missing.

“moreorjveng” Harry mumbles as he makes his way to the toaster.

“Harry, manners” Liam chastises.

“mmwha?” he asks all bleary eyes and messed up hair.

“We have guests” Zayn answers non-too-cheerfully

Harry’s eyebrows knot in confusion as his eyes fleet around, until they settle on the couple in their couch. Then his expression goes blank, not even angry, just blank and that’s probably worse.

“Oh, good morning” he says in his most polite, yet cold, voice “please, do forgive my attire. Wasn’t really aware we’d be having people over” he finishes with a sarcastic smile he probably picked from his sister, Gemma.

Louis’ expression falls visibly as he calls “Harry”

“Yes, Louis?” it’s painful, to see the extent to which Harry’s so broken he won’t even acknowledge it, he won’t even let himself fall and scream and fight and kick and punch; no, he’ll just get over it.

“Hazza” Louis pleads

“Don’t” Harry warns, and with his size, all tall frame and broad shoulders, it’s kind of scary “Don’t call me Hazza, you’ve lost that privilege”

“Let me explain” Louis says, his eyes focused on Harry. Zayn feels like he’s intruding in something private, like the conversation they’re having with their eyes is something he shouldn’t presence; but then he looks at Liam, and Liam smiles his reassuring smile and Zayn understands that it doesn’t matter whether he’s there or not because they’d never realize (because that’s just what he feels with Liam)

“Please?”

Harry heaves a sigh “fine” he agrees “can they stay?” he motions around

“Sure” Louis answers eagerly

Tea cups are passed around and Niall finds a couple of bottles of vodka somewhere inside his room. “Just in case” he shrugs.

“Alright, now you’ve all met Eleanor” Louis starts and they all nod “Um, you see, Eleanor is, she really is a very dear childhood friend to me. We’ve been neighbours and friends our whole lives” Louis’ smile feels more an apology than reassurance. None of them talk or make any noise, so Louis keeps going.

“When I first realized I was gay, it was huge, like HUGE. You need to understand something” his face grows dark at once “my father, well, my step-father I don’t really remember my biological dad. My step-father, he’s a good man, yeah? But he’s got some old-fashioned ideas, he was brought up that way and he never saw any reason to think differently”

And Zayn begins to understand, because Louis sounds almost desperate, clinging to every word as he goes. All the anger he’d felt ebbs away, slowly, but it goes; only to be replaced by the uninvited sadness for his friend’s life.

“I couldn’t possibly tell him, I was so scared” Louis hides his face in his hands but lifts it again before he continues talking “so I told Eleanor and” he huffs a laugh “she already knew” they turn to look at each other, a small smile on their faces.

“It was quite obvious” she says fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, obvious to everyone but him. My mum and sisters know” he hurries to clarify “and they’re fine with it; it’s just him, you know?”

“When did you know?” Niall asks, his hand tightly clasped with Josh’s

“What?” Louis seems taken aback with surprise

“When did you know you were gay?” Niall repeats

“Oh” his face scrunches up in thought, as if there wasn’t really a specific date for it, but more of a casual growing that even him didn’t notice “um, around my fifteenth birthday” he finally says “but then it wasn’t really a problem, it wasn’t as if I’d see my classmates in the gym and get a boner of sorts” he snorts, a bit self-deprecating if anything “no, I just knew that I didn’t like girls” he shrugs.

“Then a couple of years ago, he started pushing and asking questions about my love life and why I never brought home a girl and shit like that. I had boyfriends and hook ups, I was just careful not to let him know; but it got harder and harder with time, so Eleanor offered to help me, to cover up for me”

“Why?” Liam asks

“Because he’s my best friend” she answers easily

“But, what about your life?” he asks again

“Oh don’t worry about that” she giggles “it’s very well taken care of”

“She has a real boyfriend” Louis explains

They all fall silent after that, taking in what was just told and even more what wasn’t told.

“What did he say about me introducing Liam as my boyfriend?” Zayn asks eventually

“Oh, he’s ok with that; he thinks writers are fickle artists that find muses in the weirdest places, and their muses change with time” the look on his face saying sorry for the implied insult.

But Zayn’s heard it all, from hate to his race and religion to non-acceptance of his sexuality. He’s fought it all, he’s accepted it all; so it’s ok, it’s not as if Mr. Tomlinson was someone close to him or someone whose opinion he’s actually value.

Besides, he went through hell and back when his own father found out about his queer of a son. And maybe he can sympathise with Louis on that.

“Harry” Louis calls

“No” Harry croaks out “no, I can’t Louis, I can’t. Do you understand what you’ve done and what that means?”

“Harry, please”

“No, I can’t trust you. You lied to me Louis and then you just left me to boil in my own assumptions without reasons to confirm or deny or even try and understand something from whatever happened that day”

And fuck. Because they’re all looking at Harry, and he’s crying; he’s crying with his whole being, sobs being ripped from his chest, flushed cheeks and the utter melancholy of pure sadness escaping through his eyes.

Zayn wants to hug him. Zayn wants to hurl himself at Harry, wrap him in a cocoon of sorts and never let the world touch him again.

But he doesn’t.

It’s not his place.

“But Harry!” Louis cries, and he’s crying too (and somewhere to the left Niall has begun to tear up as well, and there’re too many bloody people in tears for Zayn’s liking)

“What Louis? WHAT?!”

“Harry, I love you”

With the way he whispered it, letting air carry his words and the movement of his lips towards their destiny, there’s no way they’re not disrupting a private moment.

“No, Louis, you don’t” Harry smiles, a sad, resigned smile “you don’t” he says, and that’s it, with that he turns back and closes the door to his room as quietly as possible.

Air feels heavy and hard to pull.

“Told you we’d need this” Niall mutters as he gets up and opens one vodka bottle. The smell is ridiculously strong, but cheap alcohol has always been a student’s friend, and by then they’re all used to it.

Eleanor excuses herself and leaves before the bottle starts going around, there’s no need for glasses or whatever fancy scheme; they’re closer than friends and saliva and microorganisms are things that can be shared without much disgust or actual thought.

They drink and drink and drink, up until the two bottles are gone, Niall and Josh are dry-humping each other on the floor, and Liam (the only mildly sober one) has Zayn wrapped around himself plating kisses from his face to his collarbone, where he bites hard enough to leave a mark.

“What happened to your not drinking?” Louis slurs in his direction

“I drink sometimes” Liam chuckles, one of his hands is carding through Zayn’s soft hair while the other goes around the boy in a one arm hug.

“You’re so disgustingly cute together” Louis says in a mock-disgusted tone “I figured it was you the moment I read that book; well, you know, after reading it and meeting you” 

Liam laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his chest and into Zayn’s body. The lightness from the alcohol makes every fuzzy and rounded in the edges, where Zayn blames it for finding Liam’s laugh indecently arousing.

(But he’s too drunk to manage an erection)

“Hey” he says pulling Liam’s shirt “hey Liam”

“Mm? Yeah babe?” Liam looks at him, a bemused expression on his face

“Liam, I really want to suck your dick right now”

All bemusement leaves Liam’s face while he chokes on his own spit and coughs frantically to recover some air. Louis just laughs in the background while Niall makes some sort of catcall from where he lays, tangled with Josh, on the floor.

Every single blood cell Liam owns appears to have migrated to his face, his neck and, Zayn imagines, his chest. It’s amusing, making Liam blush and squirm under his words, only to later let him take control and manhandle Zayn in almost any way he’d want.

So Zayn does the only thing that makes sense in his fogged up mind; he presses closer, stealing Liam’s personal space, tipping his tongue out and licks a strip from Liam’s jaw to his earlobe, where he pulls it in and bites perhaps a little too harshly.

“Alright, you’re too drunk. Let’s go” Liam chokes out as he stands and picks Zayn up by the waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Use the old excuse of taking care of him” Louis winks from his place “Just remember to be careful, don’t go two in and come out three!” he yells as they walk to Zayn’s room.

Once there, Liam (the ever-gentleman) dutifully tries to put Zayn to bed; but an intoxicated Zayn is harder to push and undress.

Zayns squirms and moves and touches and scratches at Liam until the former has no option but to let him be until alcohol calms him and puts him to sleep.

Apparently Zayn’s brain has other ideas. Since he’s already clad only in his boxers, he takes the time and effort of taking Liam’s jeans off, which shouldn’t take that long but his hands and fingers aren’t exactly cooperating or coordinated.

“Hey, hey” Liam touches Zayn’s cheek softly “babe, you’re drunk” he smiles

“Shhh, you’re still handsome and I still want to suck you” he answers, pushing Liam until he falls into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, Zayn falling to his knees not as gracefully as he’d want.

Zayn bends over a little, placing open mouth kisses along the skin on Liam’s inner thighs, opening his legs to fit himself perfectly between them. He drags his fingernails over the tanned skin, smiling proudly at the red marks they leave and licking the redder parts; all the time keeping a safe distance from Liam’s hardening cock.

Their breathing has become raged and Zayn can begin to feel himself sobering up, his own prick stirring into attention. Zayn looks up and his eyes meet Liam’s hooded ones, black exploded and covering almost all the brown in them, the lust and desire in them make a shiver run up Zayn’s spine.

Fingers hooked on Liam’s boxers, he pulls them down slowly, intended to keep the teasing and taunting going until Liam melts and begs and pleads. One of Liam hands goes to rest on Zayn’s hair, thick fingers curling and pulling at it slightly, eliciting a moan from him.

“Zayn...” Liam breathes, he’s completely debauched, lips parted and skin flushed, eyes lidded and dick standing fully erect; there’s nothing of the boy trying to get Zayn to sleep.

With a last look at Liam’s face, Zayn grabs the base of Liam’s cock with his right hand while bringing his lips closer to the head. He traces kisses along the length gently, nipping and licking at it, before he finally closes his mouth over the head, smearing a bead of precum with his tongue.

“Fuck” Liam swears “fuck Zayn, you’re so beautiful like this”

Zayn hums an agreement that reverberates through Liam’s skin and makes them both shiver.

Pumping his hand and finding a rhythm, Zayn begins to bob his head, swallowing as much of Liam as he can; feeling the heavy weight against his tongue; his nose nuzzles the thick hairs at the base, he takes his hand off and plays softly with Liam’s tightened balls.

They draw their atmosphere in sweat and mumbles words, smudging the edges with touches of fingertips, colouring the insides in a swipe of the tongue and adding light in a whispered “I love you”

“Zayn, Zayn” Liam pulls the hair between his fingers “Zayn, I’m close...what the fuck?”

Saliva and precum trickle down Zayn’s chin as he smiles mischievously. He brings his hand to his mouth and sucks obscenely on his middle finger, letting go with a loud pop. As soon as he was gone, his mouth is back on Liam, the slickened finger probing on his tight hole.

“Fuuuuuck...” Liam drags

And with that, he cums, hot and bitter down Zayn’s throat. The sight and thought of Liam cumming with his finger inside him are enough to topple Zayn and he’s done without even touching himself.

“Hey, hey. Come here” Liam pulls him up and tightens his arms around the narrow waist as he lowers then both until they’re laying down, cuddled in each other “Hey, I love you”

“Yeah?” Zayn smiles “aren’t you after me just because of my body” he says with mock outrage

“Fuck” Liam whispers “I honestly hoped you’d never figure it out” he says

“Dork” Zayn slaps him on the shoulder and they both laugh slowly at themselves “hey, I love you too” Zayn says

“I know” and then Liam’s kissing him, deep but sweet and slow, pouring his all into the action.

The sun has already set when Zayn wakes up again, his head pounding and a warm body next to him.

“You ok?” Liam asks when he notices he’s awake

“mmm” he goes to close his eyes again “just got a headache”

“Aww you poor baby” Liam mocks “of course you’ve got a headache, do you even remember how much you drank last night?”

“I remember what we did after drinking” Zayn smirks, his eyes still closed.

A light rain has begun to drizzle over the city, yet his bed remains warm, and Zayn thinks it has more to do with how he feels than the actual man sharing his bed.

“Hey” he says after a while “do you think they’ll be ok?”

Liam turns to look directly at him “who will be ok?”

“You know, Harry and Louis, do you think they’ll be ok?”

Liam doesn’t answer so fast then, and Zayn sort of despises himself for being unfair enough to ask questions to which Liam has no answers. 

But then, in the quietness of thinking, muffled steps echo down their hall, a soft knock, a whisper of “Harry”, the soft opening and closing of a door; and Zayn knows, or hopes, that they will be ok.

 

8 years later

“Babe, hurry up or we’ll be late!”

“I’m coming!” Zayn shouts as he finishes styling his hair up “Geez, babe, it’s not like the church is on the other town”

He stands on his toes and plants a chaste kiss to the other man’s pursed lips.

“Niall and Josh won’t be happy with you if you’re late to their wedding” he comments in an amused sort of chastise.

Zayn only grins sheepishly at him and bats his eyelashes, which have been proven to do more bad than good and only earn him a slap on the shoulder.

“Will he be there?” the man asks suddenly

“Yes” Zayn answers after a moment of silence, he doesn’t need to ask who he is, they already know.

“This...Leon of yours” the man musses as if Zayn hadn’t already answered

“Yes” he repeats

They stay there, just looking at each other, hazel eyes boring into light blue ones; and Zayn’s grateful for the complete lack of judgement in them, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if he were to judge him now.

Right before Niall’s wedding.

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes” Zayn chuckles, because it’s a stupid question, because he’ll always love Liam, because he’ll always know that he’ll always love Liam.

“Are you still in love with him?”

There’s no chuckle to lighten the answer, there’s nothing but electricity in the question and curiosity in blue eyes. “Yes” and it’s nothing but a whisper, how funny, that a whisper would be able to contain everything that Zayn has been feeling for the past twelve years of his life.

“You never told me what happened between the two of you” it’s just a comment; it’s just a comment that holds no reproach but a question.

Zayn can talk about it, it’s alright, three years are a long time; except they’re not and he thinks about Liam every single day, and he wished it was Liam beside him on that bed.

“Arthur” he half pleads

“Tell me” and it’s gentle and it’s soft, and it’s also cruel.

But Zayn answers the same, trying to be as vague as possible “The usual” he says “we were young, we graduated and tried but life got in the way. He found a job he loved and wanted; and I paid more attention to my books than to anything else, love isn’t always enough” he huffs a laugh, humourless and bitter, but a laugh.

“What about now?” he pushes “it’s been three years, don’t you think you’ll make it work now?”

“You trying to get rid of me?” Zayn teases (and that’s not only Louis’ influence on him throughout the years)

Arthur just smiles, a little sarcastic because that’s just him. “You should be with him, not me” he says

“What about you then?” because Zayn won’t back down, and he’ll always give as much as he gets “Shouldn’t you be with some Merlin boy instead of with me?”

He knows he’s hit it when Arthur’s smile just widens to show his perfect teeth; Arthur bends down, kisses him and leaves through.

“Hey!” Zayn shouts poking his head out “You forgot your shit, you bastard!”

Arthur just laughs, openly and freely, and Zayn laugh with him as he waves a hand and prays for that Merlin boy to not let go of a man like Arthur.

The church is all high ceilings and deep chambers, adorned in white flowers and soft blue fabric. Guests have already started to arrive, spilling inside in elegant tuxes and long dresses.

And there it is; the same gentle eyes and crinkly smile; there, in the middle of a sea of black Liam stands as if there’s a light shining solely on the purpose of making him more visible.

(That’s incredibly improbable and Zayn knows it, just like he knows it’s just him and his feelings making it all up)

Air doesn’t go into his lungs fast enough as Liam approaches him and extends his hand in what could be considered the most awkward handshake the world has seen.

There’s something cold against his palm, and oh, oh.

It feels like being hit straight on the sternum and knocked out, except that there’s no hope of getting up again. There’s a silver band around Liam’s fourth finger, on his left hand.

Zayn didn’t know.

Nobody told him.

Nobody warned him.

For a moment he entertains the idea of murdering them all as a distraction.

Harry and Louis say hi; it’s surprising with how quickly they caught fire that their love keeps on burning without signs of ever putting off. They go sit on the other side of the room, leaving Zayn to sit beside Liam.

The ceremony is beautiful and Zayn scrambles to get away from Liam, but a hand on his wrist stops him and when he turns he finds Liam’s pleading eyes.

Pleading what? He already has everything Zayn could have offered.

Still, he stays.

Liam walks them out and into a sort of private balcony, settling with his back to the city and his face towards Zayn, who is already pulling a cigarette and turning it on as means to distract his fingers (and his mouth and his brain) from the man in front of him.

“Thought you were coming with someone else” Liam ventures, his voice is as deep as Zayn remembers, there’s a small tremor to it; but Zayn doesn’t let himself think of it as more than a side effect of the chill of being outside.

He can’t let himself think of anything as anything but a side effect of the chill of being outside. Not with that band around Liam’s finger.

Because he can’t trust his own voice he only shakes his head with a half smile.

“Oh”

“Congratulations” he blurts out, Liam scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and Zayn points at the ring.

At least three heartbeats go in silence. Uncomfortable. Half of Zayn wishes that Liam leaves while the other half wishes for Liam to stay and maybe explain.

Explain what? Liam doesn’t own him anything.

“...real” he half listens

“What?”

“It’s not real” Liam says as he takes the ring off and throws it in his direction.

Zayn catches it and notices how fragile it is, how it’s not silver but some sort of cheap metal anyone could find at a toy store.

His words catch on his throat and his thoughts are a jumbled mess as he stares at Liam, silently asking for a story to fill the bottomless ring.

“It keeps people away”

And yeah, that makes even less sense than just the ring.

“What-why? I don’t understand” for a best-selling writer, Zayn seems to be very bad with words, at least then and there.

Liam heaves a deep sigh before answering. “After we broke up, I was devastated” he holds up a hand because Zayn has already opened his mouth to say something “I know, I know it was me who finished it; I know” and it’s so pained that Zayn doesn’t have it in him to reproach the man.

“After a while, I heard you started dating again, so I tried to do the same” he smiles tiredly “and then I just started sleeping around, and it was awful and tiresome and ridiculous for someone my age” he rushes his words as if going faster will make Zayn understand the point any better “and then one day I woke up in a random bed with a random stranger and I knew”

Liam is looking Zayn in the eye then, leaving no room for Zayn to avert his heated gaze or the truth behind it.

“I knew it couldn’t be anyone but you, I have never and will never love anyone the way I love you. There’s no one but you Zayn”

Zayn could cry, really, he could; both because Liam words are true and because how much of a fucking cliché his life is becoming while he hates clichés?

Instead, he throws his second cigarette, crossed the space between them and plants his lips on Liam’s.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” almost a psalm falling from Liam’s lips that Zayn picks up with a kiss and a couple of tears.

Later that night, as he lays awake next to a sleeping Liam, his phone buzzes with a text from Arthur void of any real text but with the sole image of a milky-skin boy sleeping soundly, lips puffed from kissing.

He doesn’t bother answering until the next morning.

The next time all of them wear tuxedoes at the same time and in the same church, two years have gone by, Liam is standing on the altar and Zayn is walking down the aisle.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr here: http://sometimes-i-english.tumblr.com/ (because I'm lame and don't know yet how to put a link on the notes, sorry)


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